


Hyne's War

by Mercale



Series: Legend of Vascaroon [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Character Death, Epic, F/M, Gen, Hyne, Legend of Vascaroon, M/M, Other, Post Game, Sorceress, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 43
Words: 218,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercale/pseuds/Mercale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after Time Compression the future is bright. Then a man steps forth to demand that the son of Vascaroon guide the chosen people, called the Zebalgans to Hyne's body and magic, so that they might rule the world. The world's only option? War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Another cup of coffee, Father?”

The question earned not only a denial from Boyce, but a chuckle. “You'll keep me up all night. Men my age need to sleep early so we don't get to be crotchety old bastards.”

“Come now, you're only, what, forty-seven this year. I'd hardly call that 'old.' They are saying that fifty is the new forty after all.”

“And forty is the old sixty,” Boyce laughed, and waved the coffee off once more. “I have business that requires me to wake early, so I'd rather not have another cup to keep me up into the wee hours.”

“Of course,” his son says, though the younger man pours another cup for himself and his wife. “Still, if I had your energy this late at night I wouldn't need one myself. It's hard keeping up with a baby sometimes.”

“I'm well aware of that. It feels that just yesterday you were the lad's size. Where have all of the years gone?”

Before his son could respond wails erupted from the baby monitor that sat on a corner of the table. Both the boy and his wife jumped, frowning at the monitor and each other, before Boyce shook his head. Already his daughter-in-law was starting to rise, a weary look in her eyes, and Boyce waved her back into her seat. To look at the poor girl it should have been her, and not Boyce, who was graying at the temples.

“Come now, you look like you could use a little bit of a break. I'll go look in on the tyke. I'm sure it's nothing his grandfather can't deal with. Not like I haven't handled a diaper or two in my days.”

His son's cheeks pinked at the comment, and Boyce laughed as he stood. The boy had always been too sensitive in Boyce's opinion, but it had drawn such a singularly amazing woman to the lad that Boyce could not hold it against his son. Even adopted as the lad was, he had done Boyce proud.

“Besides, what is a grandfather for other than spoiling their grandchildren rotten from the very earliest?”

This drew a genuine smile from his son, but Boyce could not help but notice that the smile from the lad's wife was more strained. Like a not the poor girl needed more sleep than she was getting with a newborn around.

Either was it was something easily brushed aside as Boyce finished the last dredges of his coffee and then turned for the hall. Boyce hadn't made it halfway down the hall, though, before he heard the voices of his son and daughter-in-law drift after him in spite of the fact that they were obviously trying to whisper. Then again, disagreements usually made it past the whispering point long before the parties involved realized it, didn't they?

“I wish you would tell him to go away,” she was saying, and Boyce couldn't help but frown.

“If you keep acting like this, how are you ever going to get along with him?”

“I don't intend to 'get along with him.' Not now, not ever. I don't care that he's your father. I don't want him near our son, filling his head with that damn poison of his.”

Poison, she called it, but how could Boyce expect her to understand? As much as it shamed him, he had never been able to get his own son to take him seriously about this, so how could he expect more of the woman he had chosen? In the end it didn't matter really. His son would get to the bottom of whatever the argument was really about and clear things up before morning, and Boyce would learn all about it by lunch.

“Now now,” Boyce mumbled as he pushed open the door to the nursery, only to be met with the even louder wails of the child. “Shhhh. Rest now, little one. If you are quiet then I'll tell you a story.”

Soon enough the child quieted, likely from a combination of Boyce's deep, rumbling voice and the fact that Boyce was rocking the child slowly in his arms. It was something that had used to drop his boy off in mere minutes, back when the child had been brought to him to raise, orphaned by one of the wars that seemed to constantly plague the world these days.

“There now, that's better. Now, let me tell you a story.”

Carefully Boyce cleared his throat and pitched it low in that deep, basso-rumble that children in the village seemed to love. 

_Once upon a time there was a great man named Hyne. Hyne was the ruler of the world, but he was a lazy man, and decided that he would make a tool to make his life easier. Thus Hyne came up with a neat little tool that made more tools by itself. Satisfied with what he had made, Hyne stretched himself out across his world and slept, knowing the tools would work his will. Soon these tools made more, and those made more, and there were very many in the world, and these tools were people._

_When Hyne work up from a nap he was surprised to find a lot of people in the world. Hyne wanted to reduce the number of people as he didn't need as many tools when he was awake, and so he used his magic to burn up the smallest of the people. These small people were children and people cherished the children very much. So the people mourned and rebelled against their father Hyne, for he was cruel and hurtful to them. Hyne had powerful magic on his side to fight the people, while all the people had none. People had something greater though, for they had lived long and hard lives together, and by living these lives they had gained something that Hyne had never expected: they had grown clever._

_Eventually Hyne found himself losing the fight to the people, for there were many people to fight, and they grew ever smarter with every battle. Therefore Hyne decided to make peace with the people, and he offered them half of his body and magic. The people, foolish and greedy for the power of magic, agreed, and so Hyne cut his body in half and gave part of it to the people. As a god he could do this, and once it was done Hyne left the world he had created to people._

_Yet Hyne knew something that the people did not. He knew that the people had grown cruel and jealous in their own lives, and that they would war among themselves. Sure enough the people could not decide who should have the power of Hyne. Should it go to the wisest, the strongest, or the most just? Once more the people warred, though this time it was over the power Hyne had given them through his body. The war lasted decades, and the loss was such that the King of the Zebalgan tribe mourned for the loss. He saw that the god had tricked them to war, and worked to stop the fighting. Soon, through his cunning and kindness, he was able to stop the war, and came before the body of Hyne to ask for its power for the people. Yet the body ignored his commands. No matter how he asked, what he said or did, the body would not respond. So King Zebalga called out for help in understanding what had come to pass._

_So came forth the wise man Vascaroon to answer the riddle when all other wise men failed. He stood before the body and saw what the king was unable to: that it was corrupt and possessed no power that could be claimed by men. What Hyne had left the people was nothing more than a shell, and that the magic of the god had left when the god had. Yet, knowing the answer would anger the people, Vascaroon said to the king that no power could come from the fallen body, but that one day the power of the god would come to the people._

_Zebalga asked how this might be and Vascaroon gave this promise to the king. Search for the true body of the god if you would seek his power, and it should come to you in whole, not in part. Yet the path to the god's power would not be unlocked, even if the god were to give to humans the whole of his power, until the day when Vascaroon's son would come to the Zebalgans. It would be through his heir that people would come to hold the power of the god in their hands. When the king asked how he knew this, Vascaroon told the had he foreseen it in a dream, and that he had also seen the signs of his son's coming._

_My son, Vascaroon said, will know as I have known, for his dreams will come to pass and he will be wise from them. True magic would he weave, as if he were a daughter of Hyne, a sorceress of magic capable of shaking the world. Yet these things in full would come only to his true heir, the first son born of his line. And this son would come to guide the Zebalgan King to the path of the might of the god in a time of great struggle._

_With this said Vascaroon left the King, that he might return to his own people. The king prepared himself for the coming of Vascaroon's son, but no heir came forth to guide him. The king's son after him waited for the heir, as did the son after him, and the son after him, until at last the centuries had turned and the kings came to lose hope in the words of the prophet. Yet many still know that the day shall come when the heir shall come forth, appearing before them in majesty, to guide the king to the power that the Zebalgans have long since earned. Still we search for him, to this day, looking for signs of the coming of the heir._

“Searching after fairy tales and legends of men who were trying to explain away the reasons for great wars,” hissed the child's mother from where she stood in the doorway, her eyes filled with anger. “Men your age shouldn't put too much weight in story book legends.”

“You call them legends,” Boyce said calmly, only to be met with more fury from the woman.

“Leave here, Boyce. Do not return. You are not allowed near my son any longer. I will not have you trying to fill his head with your foolish stories or pull him into your damn cult. My son is not your tool, not some object of your false prophecy.”

“Now now, my dear...”

“Do not 'my dear' me, Boyce. I will not accept this anymore. Now leave or I will call the cops.”

With a sigh Boyce replaced the child in his cradle, and moved past the woman into the hall. He wasn't concerned, for all of the fury she flung at him. In the morning his son would call, apologize for his wife's behavior, and invite Boyce back over for dinner.

In the end, Boyce Megill either overestimated his son, or underestimated the fury of a mother., for he never laid eyes upon his grandson again.


	2. Chapter 1

Forests were places of unimaginable life and beauty. If you were capable of staying still for long enough, if you were slow and gentle, it was like a whole new world opened up for you. Your eyes could start to pick out every flickering of leaves in the breeze, your ears locate birds in ways they could not while you were on the move, and if you were really good you could even smell animals around you. Nida was poorest at this latter skill, but his hearing, his sight, these were keen while he was within the limits of the forest, poised high up as he was in the branches of an oak. Already he had been there long enough for the residents he had disturbed with his arrival to renew their posts and lives. It was almost as if he was a part of the bark of the tree for all the care they gave to him.

Nida closed his eyes, sure of his balance upon the limb, and just a sure that he was invisible from the ground. With his eyes closed it was that much easier to give his mind over to the sounds around him. He could pick out a set of larks not five feet away, though they were several feet higher than him in their own tree. On the forest floor below him, Nida could sense a grat wandering around in the bushes, searching for some place to sink its roots in hope of finding some water. The noise that concerned him more, though, was the regular, unmistakable sound of footsteps. They weren't the footsteps of an animal, though, too quick and intent for a browsing animal, too noisy for a hunting beast. No, there was a crack of a twig breaking, and the other sounds of the forest faded, birds fleeing, at this sound. There was really only one thing Nida could apply the sound to: man.

Quickly Nida opened his eyes, seeking to pinpoint the person through the cover the leaves provided him at this height. Sure enough he soon caught a flash of yellow and red amid the rich green of the leaves. Zell, then. Well, better him than one of the others, Nida decided. His other pursuers would think to look up, seek sign of their prey among the branches, but Zell was less comfortable with the woods, and he wouldn't know some of the more subtle signs of Nida's presence. Nida couldn't help but smile at the relative safety that he found with the martial artist compared to the other elite SeeDs. Sure, in an urban setting Zell was by far one of the more dangerous ones, but here the blond was relatively useless.

Nida watched in amusement as Zell drew ever closer to his hiding spot, though for a moment Nida couldn't resist the urge to feel at his breast pocket for the disk and comm stashed there. Even though Nida had checked twice since climbing the tree, having even Zell so close made the urge to make sure that the items were still with him. They were, after all, far more important than his own life.

The movement could have been better timed, apparently, for no sooner had Nida moved to touch his breast pocket than a hawk further up in the tree took flight. The sudden motion caught Nida off guard, even he had not noticed the silent predator not too far above his own head. When the bird took wing with a screech Nida couldn't help but flinch. That wouldn't have been a problem if he had kept both of his hands on the branch, but the compulsion to check for the data had taken an important part of his balance away. Nida started to topple backwards, his arms flailing. Though he caught himself rather quickly, restoring his balance, it wasn't before a curse had escaped him, and a loud one at that.

Even Zell wouldn't miss something that glaringly obvious.

The constant strides of Zell's pace changed to a run, and in the proper direction too. It was all Nida could do to hold back another curse as he regained his balance and watched the blond through the leaves of the oak. There was no denying the fact that if Zell truly looked he would find Nida, which meant switching to plan b, or h, or whatever he was up to at this point. Carefully Nida waited for Zell to draw abreast of his tree, and just as the blond came to a stop Nida threw away his thoughts and dropped from the limb.

His landing was heavy, and likely would have hurt far more if it were not for Zell making a rather good cushion. Zell fell forward under the sudden addition of Nida's weight, and even Nida had to wince at the thud that came with Zell's face planting hard into the ground. Still, this was no time for pity, and Nida quickly drew a short stick from his belt, dealing a sharp blow to the back of Zell's head. That, in addition to the fact that he had likely knocked the wind of out of the SeeD, would be more than enough for now. Even though they were on different sides, Nida couldn't bring himself to do any lasting damage to the blond. Besides, Zell would have to deal with the humiliation of returning to Garden and revealing that he had been bested by Nida, and that would be injury enough for someone as proud as the martial artist.

Sure that the blond wouldn't be after him any time soon, Nida leapt to his feet and ran off through the foliage. Not only had the noise he'd made lost him the best chance he had to get some rest after his escape, it would likely draw Zell's companions, and neither Selphie or Quistis were likely to fall for the same things Zell would. All Nida could hope was that his blind flight through the forest, startling birds and animals, and likely to draw the others, was at least not headlong into the direction of one of the females.

Yet Nida hadn't even made it a hundred yards when he heard a whistling in the air. It was all the warning he had to move, and even that was barely in time. Nida winced as the tip of Quistis's whip cut across his cheek, though it was better than having found the thing wrapped around his neck. Instantly Nida's hands went back to undo the clasp at his shoulder, freeing a long, oaken stick he had found at the base of his perch. Once the wood was in hand Nida pulled it across his body defensively as Quistis stepped from behind a bush off to his right. Even as her hand pulled back, preparing for another crack of the whip, Nida turned his body to present the smallest possible target to the woman, his stick whipping around to defend his back moments before he felt more than heard a nunchaku strike the wood. For the briefest of moments Nida saw a puzzled look flash across Quistis's face, probably a result of her wondering if she had given away Selphie's present in some way. Nida merely smiled at the whip-wielding SeeD, she didn't need to know that Selphie had let out a quiet little squeal when she had snuck up behind him.

Quistis recovered quickly, her hand flicking the whip at him. Nida had just enough time to twist away from where he had been standing, the large stick coming up between him and Quistis. Without pausing he watched as the whip wrapped around his makeshift weapon, but instead of struggling for it, Nida hurled the piece of wood at Quistis. While she was distracted, likely ducking the unexpected move, Nida twisted back to regard Selphie, pulling another short stick from his belt as he whirled. One, two blows were knocked away before Nida dashed for Selphie. Predictably she raised her nunchaku before her to block his blow, allowing Nida to easily slip behind her, hooking his stick under her chin and holding it there with a tight, two-handed grip. Instantly Selphie went still, likely realizing just as Nida did that if she struggled he could easily jerk the stick tighter, knocking her out. While the dead weight might slow Nida down for a second, Selphie would not be willing to leave Quistis alone is she could avoid it, especially when any lapse in Nida's concentration might give Selphie a chance to attack him.

Silence reigned for a breathless moment as Quistis, her own red mark cutting across her cheek from her failure to dodge Nida's stick fast enough, contemplated Nida's capture of Selphie. Soon enough, though, Quistis smiled and raised her whip again, apparently having decided to sacrifice her comrade for the sake of capturing Nida. With a curse Nida kicked Selphie away from him, thrusting her forward at Quistis, and took off running as far away from the women as he could manage. At least the momentary confusion might result in would buy Nida some time. All he could do was hope that he was faster than Selphie. While Nida knew he could outrun Quistis in almost any situation, having Selphie head him off would easily slow him down so that Quistis could catch up. The question was, then, how fast exactly was that sugar-charged Trabian girl?

There were few options left, Nida realized as he ran in the only direction presented to him: forward. There was little to no time left to climb a tree, and that would require losing the pair first, truly losing them as he had nearly an hour ago. Right now the pair were close enough that even simple trail breaking tricks wouldn't throw them off, and the more complex one would require a bit more time. SeeDs could be worse than bloodhounds when tracking. Hiding was also out, any trail he made would easily guide the pair to his hiding spot. So Nida ran, contemplating the one thing he hadn't wanted to think about. At this point the chances of him making the plains in time for his rendezvous was unlikely, and being out there would make him an easy target for the SeeDs. The only other hope, then, was to try and hold them off for just a bit longer, to find some way to make sure that the disk made it to the ones it was intended for. To do that, though, meant doing something that Nida didn't much enjoy the thought of.

For five minutes he ran in as straight of a line as he could manage, making for where he thought the plains should be. What he intended to do required him to be as close to the edge of the woods as was possible. It was the only way.

“I hear him!” Selphie's should echoed through the trees. “This way!”

There went what little hope Nida had entertained that he could hold out. They were close, drawing closer. Still, Nida had no intention of losing the war, even if he lost the battle.

With this in mind, Nida leapt from the path he had been cutting in the woods, as far as he could in hopes that the temporary path change wouldn't be noticed. In the end he intended to head back there, to let himself be caught. The mission was, after all, far more important than his own safety. This done Nida made for the nearest tree, seeking an uplifted root. Upon finding one he carefully swept twigs and leaves aside, making a small nook for the data disk. After a moment he set the homing beacon on his comm and tossed that in as well before restoring the twigs and leaves as well as he could. From there it was a simple matter of hiding his footprints as he returned to his trail. A minute, tops, lost. But it was an important minute none the less. Finally, hopeful, Nida set off running towards the plains once more.

For another minute he managed to run on without incident, only to hear a noise to his left just before he found his ankle to be tangled in something. The briefest glance as he froze revealed it to indeed by Quistis's whip wrapped around his boot. The thought barely had time to register before the whip was tugged, hard, and Nida lost what balance he had managed to find by standing still. As much as it was a pain at this moment, Nida had to admit that Quistis was far stronger than she looked, even without a junction. That thought lasted but a moment as Nida fell forward, his hands flashing out to catch him and save him at a mouthful of dirt, even if the rest of him hit the ground. Well, at least this way there was an even better excuse for his dirty hands than just two hours in the forest, so it was unlikely any of them would call on that when they noticed the disk was missing. Nida just had to hope that they didn't think to point out that there was dirt under his finger nails as well.

The relief quickly passed as a great weight settled itself on his back, Zell more than likely.

“Gotcha!” Zell cheered as Nida tried to move the bulk of the martial artists off of his back.

All this earned Nida, though, was Zell pushing him back down. Then Zell moved, shifting his weight to make sure that Zell was truly securely pinned. Quistis and Selphie, apparently having decided that Zell had things under control, moved up at this point, and quickly Nida found his wrists and ankles being lashed together by Quistis's whip and some extra bit of rope that Selphie apparently had. With this done Selphie moved in front of Nida, squatting down to look in his eyes.

“Comfy?”

Nida couldn't help but laugh. What was the point of that kind of question when they had him trussed up like a wild animal?

“Shut up and tell us where the disk is!” Zell demanded.

The contradiction only served to make Nida laugh all the harder. Of course that managed to earn him a strike on the head from Selphie's nunchaku, but Nida was sure it was worth it. Better to laugh than do anything else, right?

“What's so funny?” Selphie finally asked.

“Chicken's choice of words and the fact that you think I'd actually tell you just because you caught me,” Nida gasped out between breaths. “Face it, you haven't won yet. Ifrit knows I wouldn't tell you anything willingly. I won't make it that easy on you.”

“Fine then. We'll do a strip search if we need to,” Zell said.

“Only if you do it personally,” Nida laughed.

“You're enjoying this.”

“Every moment. But be careful what you do, Zell. If you seem to enjoy it too much as well the girls might think less of you.”

This comment earned Nida another buffet and a full twenty seconds of swearing from Zell.

“Search him,” Quistis finally ordered. “If he doesn't have it on him, we'll make him talk.”

“Here?” Zell asked. “In the dirt and fust and all of that?”

“Have you got a better idea?”

“Well...”

“He couldn't come up with one even if he tried to,” Nida offered, which got another round of cursing.

“How dare you...”

“Face it,” Nida said, his voice deadly serious now, “I've won.”

_Time_ . 

The echo of the guardian force's words in his mind made Nida's declaration all the sweeter, though he'd meant the words to be yet another attempt at stalling.

“SHIT!” Zell cursed, and from the sounds of countless birds taking off in the forest, it was more than just loud. “Ifrit, you sure you have that right?”

“Leviathan agrees,” Quistis said with a sigh, already moving to untie Nida. “Our two hours have passed. Nida's reinforcements would be surrounding us right about now. We'd have ten, maybe fifteen minutes maximum to recover the disk and return to base. And that is provided it was on him, not that we had to resort to torture or a search.”

“And,” Selphie chimed in, “We had no clue where he was for an hour. The disk could be  _anywhere_ in the forest. Nida won.”

Zell grumbled in annoyance and stood, removing his weight from Nida's back, something for which Nida was immensely grateful. Immediately Nida stood and started to massage the life back into his wrists. Apparently Quistis was as good with knots as she was with whips. Who would have thought it?

“That was impressive,” Selphie continued, as if she hadn't even noticed that Zell was upset. “You outlasted three Class-A Elite SeeDs for two hours, outwitted too, even though we had Quisty! I bet you pass your next examination so easily that you will barely even notice that you had one. Though, you d id kind of get caught in the end.”

“And?” Nida asked, laughing genuinely this time. “Avoiding being caught isn't always the important part. There are times when the mission comes first.”

With that Nida gestured for the trio to follow him and started back through the woods towards where he had hidden the disk and his comm.

“What is the important part then?” Zell asked.

Nida didn't answer at first, only walked until at last he came upon the tree with the uplifted root. After a split second taken to savor his victory, Nida moved to the root and started to push leaves out of the way. At last he pulled out the dick and the comm, holding them up for the trio to see.

“The mission briefing said nothing about me having to get out immediately or at all. What was stressed was that the disk make it to my people. Nothing about mandatory evacuation, survival, or successful evasion of enemy forces. I followed my orders, to the letter.”

There was silence from the other three SeeDs for a moment. Then Quistis sighed and shook her head.

“I'll give you that it is true, but I don't think anyone would want to be so reckless on a mission. Completing a mission is one thing, but being so reckless with your own life is just...”

“Something expected of us if it is what it takes to complete our mission,” Nida pointed out. “We are mercenaries after all. Besides, if I'd had access to Siren or magic under the rules of our little contest here, or even one of my weapons, this might have gone differently, I might have been able to make it back. Then again, if you guys had been allowed to use your own Guardian Forces of magic, I would not have stood a chance. In that case I'd have had to have done more than just trick you to win, I'd probably have to do something truly reckless. Hyne knows I'm lucky to have even managed to win with the rules we had.”

“Don't say that!” Selphie insisted.

Nida shook his head, “You and Quistis are by far the best magic users in Balamb or any other Garden. Zell, fully junctioned, has the most brute strength, which is terrifying when you put it behind his martial arts. When you add in the enhanced hearing, sight, or speed a GF can grant, do you really think I could be a match for you guys? Let's face it, I'm not match for a Class A Elite SeeD in a real fight.”

“Maybe,” Selphie said with a frown, “but it's not like we wanted to test that, right? Besides, look at it this way, there probably isn't anybody, except maybe Squall or Seifer, that could pull off what you just did. Like you said, the rest of us are too specialized.”

“What do you mean?” Nida couldn't help but ask. “I took almost all of the same classes as Squall and Quistis...”

“But you're really good with computers,” Selphie pointed out cheerfully. “Plus you just proved you've got survival skills, or at least better ones than Zell. Face it, Nida, the fact that you managed to outrun and outwit pursuers of our level, without magical backup and only improvised weapons, is awesome. And the only one I have seen who can improvise so well on mission orders and still follow what is written to the letter is Squall.”

As nice as it was to be compared to the Lion of Balamb in a complimentary way, Nida shook his head, dismissing the comments. Squall would have been able to complete the challenge that had been set before Nida without getting caught. Squall was the best of them, and no one questioned it. Why else, after all, had everything been put in his hands?

With a sigh Nida started to discard the last of the sticks he had tucked into his belt. During the course of the two hour challenge Nida had collected many different lengths and thicknesses of sticks to use as his only weapons. Improvising weapons had been important to the challenge the other three SeeDs had designed, intended to better simulate a lose-lose situation. The challenge had been based on the idea of Nida having been captured during an information retrieval mission, only to escape with the desired data but with none of the rest of his gear. His actual weapon, unlike those of the others, had been left at the Garden, meaning he had to face not only the other SeeDs, but any violent creatures he encountered, with only what he found.

“Here, you wanted this,” Nida said as he finally tossed the blank disc they had used at Zell.

“Imagine, hiding the thing so close to where we took you down,” Quistis sighed, “and with your comm. Your rescue team could follow the tracker to the disc, and likely with a big enough team to handle the situation if they signal had been faked or intercepted.”

Nida nodded in agreement, and smiled about his thrown together plan. It wasn't necessarily the best plan, thrown together quickly as it was, but it had been effective. At least, it had been in this situation.

“Who can say how I would have handled it if there had been actual threat, though? I might have acted differently if I thought there were a real chance of torture or death, if this forest wasn't so close to Balamb, if I had magic... If a lot of things. I mean, I've spent a lot of time in these woods these last few months, not to mention before the war. I had an edge here because of that, even though it was you three after me.”

“This is great and all,” Zell cut in, smirking though at Nida's compliment, “but I'm hungry. Can we at least get some lunch before you girls start grilling Nida on when he's going to do his Class A exam yet? Please?”

Selphie quickly latched onto Zell's idea and started bouncing around. “Yeah! Last one to the cafeteria is... A rotten Ochu!”

That was all of the encouragement that Zell needed, and with a shout he ran after Selphie as she bolted off towards the Garden. From the corner of his eye Nida could see Quistis smiling fondly after her friends, as if she were a young woman watching the children she baby-sat playing. Or maybe like an older sister. Nida frowned at that thought, unable to do more than wonder what it would be like to have an older sister. Quickly Nida shook off the thought and looked after Selphie and Zell, who already had quite a lead on Nida and Quistis's walking pace. It was almost amazing to watch them, how energetic and cheerful they were, as if the trials of war had done nothing to affect who they were. Yet you could see the changes on them, mostly in the way that even after two hours of chasing a lone man through the woods, there had not been a bit of sweat on either of them. Mostly Nida envied their energy and stamina, especially since at the moment he longed for a nap.

“Will you look at that?” Quistis said, almost sounding shocked as they finally exited out into the plains. “Those two will be back to the Garden in no time. What in the world do they even run on?”

“Hot dogs and sugar,' Nida offered, trying to sound helpful rather than teasing. “Not a dietary change that I could handle though.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.”

“Well,” Nida said with a slight yawn, “At least you won't have to worry about being a rotten Ochu.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, I'm faster than you,” Nida said cheerfully before taking off. He did call back over his shoulder though, “So you can be sure you're a rotten Ochu and not have to worry about it.”

Laughing, he left Quistis behind.

 

* * * * *

 

When Nida saw Quistis again, it was almost ten minutes after he had already started into his meal in the cafeteria. Upon her arrival in the noisy cafeteria, Zell and Selphie had forgotten all about rotten Ochus. Zell's main source of distraction was the pile of hotdogs before him, and Selphie's had been Irvine. The gunner—instated to the position of Class-A Elie SeeD at the end of the war six months ago with the understanding that he would have to earn the full rank within the next year to make the honorary status official—had recently finished one of his long meetings with Squall.

The pair met almost daily now, discussing what changes needed to take place curriculum wise for Galbadia Garden to train their own full-fledged SeeDs, though exams would be handled by Balamb Garden and it's group of Elites. Selphie consulted with Squall in the time after lunch to achieve the same thing for the recovering Trabia. Even with the war over the three Garden Headmasters had agreed that the idea of Squall—who had been forced to keep his position as SeeD Commander—had offered them regarding this. Squall had apparently pointed out that reserving the final training, advancement, and maintenance of SeeDs to Balamb was a foolish idea. All Gardens should train and house SeeDs. If only Balamb was allowed to do this and dispatch SeeDs, then another attack like the missiles could easily destroy over eighty percent of the mercenary forces in the world. Sharing the SeeDs among the three Gardens and countries showed renewed trust between the Gardens, something vital now that the war was over.

Irvine, Nida remembered as he brushed a finger over the cut on his cheek, just recently healed with the brush of a basic cure spell, had been responsible for today's challenge. About two months back Irvine had decided—after a rather long period of contemplation apparently—that he needed something to back up his gun as a weapon, and that he'd need training with it. In the apparently unlikely event that he lacked ammo or a gun, Irvine had to be able to defend himself with something more than close range magic. It had been a decision, though, that he had not shared with the others of what Selphie called 'the Orphanage Gang.' Maybe he had been worried about teasing, or debates over weapons, but either way Irvine had turned elsewhere for advice. The gunner had gone to Xu in the end for a recommendation on a teacher, swearing her to secrecy. Her initial recommendation had been Elijah Zale, a level 20 SeeD specializing in swords and quick, debilitating techniques. When Irvine had refused Xu had suggested Nida, who at that time had just reached level 25. Of course Xu had pointed out that Nida himself was often overloaded with work learning more about the Garden's flight systems, the Ragnarok, and testing for his own SeeD levels—the latter of which was by far the most draining considering Nida had drilled himself in the subsequent month and a half to achieve another three levels to put himself at 28, the highest ranking non-Class-A SeeD in the Gardens.

It had been that overworking himself that made Nida welcome the distraction of training Irvine, not to mention the fact that he had felt flattered to have Irvine ask him for help. Nida knew how useful it was to have a SeeD to train with, though, as Nida had worked with Elijah before Nida's own SeeD examination. The extra training had paid off, and Nida had gotten through the exam with the highest graduation level, putting him at 10 to Squall's 8 and the 7 of Zell and Selphie. Still, Nida had understood why Irvine had come to him rather than Elijah, personality issues aside. Nida's combat specialty was with polearms and improvised weapons, something that would be better suited to the situations where Irvine would face melee combat.

The training had been almost a relief for Nida, a change from the normal days of memorization, testing and training, and from what Irvine had said, he enjoyed the fact that he could be away from the frequent prying of the Orphanage Gang. The group, save Squall, were apparently prone to trying to get more and more memories from Irvine, who still preferred not to work with GFs so that he could remember his past. Teaching Irvine had been like a breather for Nida every day, a relaxation before his own training, and a release from the strain that came with the constant testing that had enabled Nida to climb from the level 19 he had reached at the end of the war to level 25 in only four months.

In the end Irvine's training had made Nida think about what it meant to be a SeeD all over again; the pleasure of knowing just how much your body can take, and the importance of having physical skills to back up knowledge. More than that, the training had made Nida think about the sheer difference in what motivated him and Irvine, and reminded him just how great the gap between his own skills and the Elite SeeDs could be.

Still, the training had gone well, and about a week ago Irvine had challenged Selphie to spar. She had asked how they could spar when he had a gun, but when told that Irvine wouldn't use it, she had laughed. The laughter hadn't been there when Selphie had arrived earlier than agreed, and had seen Irvine warming up with the bo Nida had given him. Though Irvine had lost, Selphie had still applauded Irvine's skill and asked how he'd learned. Three minutes later Selphie had been flat on her ass, the tip of Nida's practice bo at her throat, the result of her challenging him. Nida had pointed out that the victory was likely because Selphie had tired herself a little fighting Irvine. Still, Selphie had called Quistis, and Nida spent five minutes fighting the two women together, edging out a win by playing the two against each other and taking advantage of their lack of experience with his style of polearm fighting. Luckily they had agreed not to use magic or junctions against Nida, to 'even it up,' which Nida had been thankful for. He was fast, but no where near as fast as a junctioned SeeD. Granted Nida could have used Siren, who had been lent to him after the war due to his high initial bond with the spirit, but he had wanted to prove to himself that he could face the heroes of the war. Finally Zell had been called in, and the martial artist had managed to make it inside of Nida's defenses, rendering the fight short and in the blonde's favor.

Thanks to that Nida had spent the last week being tested by the trio of SeeDs in countless ways, including the occassional three-on-one sparring sessions that Nida was slowly getting closer and closer to winning. All of this meant that Nida was spending more and more time with the Orphanage Gang, minus of course the ever busy Squall and still missing Seifer. Even Xu, Quistis's best friend, didn't spend as much time with the foursome as Nida was starting to. Then again, Nida almost envied her. As nice as it was to have them recognize his skill, he wasn't as happy to listen in to malboro mating habits, which Selphie and her overactive imagination loved to speculate upon.

Quistis settled herself at the table between Irvine and Nida, and Irvine tipped his hat to the instructor. Nida merely scooted his seat over a bit more to give Quistis more room.

“So,” Irvine drawled, “How did it end up going?” The other two at the table had been too busy eating, or stealing Irvine's hat in Selphie's cas, to ask for details, and Nida hadn't been about to part with them.

“I think he could pass the Class-A exam right now,” Quistis responded.

“That good?” Irvine chuckled.

“Not really,” Nida quickly said, “and I'm not that good yet. I've told you that Quistis. The magic practical alone...”

“Is nothing,” Zell mumbled around a mouthful of hotdog.

“And I bet you're way better than you say,” Selphie agreed, bouncing around in her chair.

“Maybe,” Nida said, though he doubted it. Instructor Aki had always given him grief for his lack of magical prowess.

“Well, either way, will you be free to practice tonight?” Irvine asked. “My schedule has opened up a bit and I was hoping to work on that jump you showed me.”

Nida shook his head. “Sorry. I've got some new specs to study for the Garden's flight systems, as well as sword practice with Elijah.”

The name brought a scowl to Irvine's face, as it always did. For some reason the two SeeDs just did not get along.

“Why sword practice?” Selphie asked curiously. “Didn't you say something about him having taught you the bo?”

Again Nida shook his head. “Elijah only ever tried to teach me swords, but I used metal practice bos with simulated edges to imitate my weapons to practice with him. I needed to understand how to deal with a bladed weapon because of the wood of the shafts of my polearms. He is, though, the one that taught me that wall flip trick...”

Selphie squealed at that, remembering what Nida was talking about. Originally they had been on the same team during the SeeD graduation exam, their team the first on the beach and responsible for securing it. Unfortunately they had been pinned down by a turret. Their SeeD support, Elijah, had been pinned down to the point where even magic had been useless. Nida had taken Elijah's curse that someone had to take the turret down literally—something Elijah had yelled at him for later. Nida had run across the sand as fast as he could, finally putting first one foot then the other against the wall the turret sat atop. Momentum and strength had carried Nida up to the point where he could get his polearm planted on the top, flip over, and sink the blade at the top of the weapon into the neck of the gunner, allowing the whole mission to continue. It had been, Nida learned later, the exact method that Elijah had intended to use to take out the turret.

“That was so cool!” Selphie cheered. “Can you teach me?”

Nida chuckled and sat back to finish the end of the stew that was his meal as Selphie told the others about the stunt Nida had pulled during the exam. Soon, though, the conversation turned towards the status of SeeDs at other Gardens, and how Squall was asking for volunteers to help jump start training programs, as well as dealing with the promotion of some talented military trained youths at Galbadia Garden to SeeD status. Nida stayed silent for that conversation, not wanting to share the fact that Nida had been one of those offered the transfer, and that he had yet to figure out what to do about it.

The conversation abruptly died when a loud series of beeps came from Nida's pocket. Everyone stared at him, frowning, and Nida found himself raising his hands in an almost defensive manner.

“Just a reminder alarm. I have to get going. FH engineers, for how laid back they are, aren't very big on me being late to my lessons. And I think they might have a surprise test on the stabilizers today.”

The others bid Nida farewell as he rushed to return his tray before making his way to the second subbasement of Garden, where machinery few ever saw rested, waiting for Nida to understand it all.

 

* * * * *

 

“You're not focused,” Elijah hissed, his voice mingling with the sound of steel on steel. “Come on, you're fast enough to avoid this. Put your mind on the blade dammit.”

Again there was the scream of steel on steel, though this time it was the piercing sound of metal pieces sliding against each other instead of slamming together. And then, before he could react, Nida watched as Elijah twisted the sword in his hand and somehow managed to flick Nida's sword out of his hand. Within a breath the tip of Elijah's practice sword was at Nida's throat, and the blue eyes of the red haired man flashed with fury.

“What the hell, Nida? Focus if you want to live. Do you know just how damn easy it is to kill a swordsman who isn't focused on their weapon?”

Nida snarled at the mocking tone in Elijah's voice, but said nothing about it. Whenever they sparred, whether it was for fun or training, Elijah talked, always talked. It was annoying, distracting, infuriating, and Nida every word was a taunt that pushed all the right buttons to make Nida angry. And soon enough Nida would find himself disarmed and with Elijah's practice sword at his throat. Now, just as always, Elijah's foot wrapped around Nida's, and jerked back. The sudden loss of support found Nida falling and his body twisting into a roll that led him away from where Elijah smirked to where Nida's own practice sword rested. Quickly Nida snatched it up and flipped quickly back to his feet, raising the sword defensively before himself.

“Well, are you going to come at me or not?” Elijah said, still mocking Nida. Nida lunged forward, blade raised for a strike, only to find it parried easily to the side.

“You're angry. But I would be too if I was sucking at this as bad as you are right now.”

Nida twisted, bringing the sword up for a head level strike, though this too was deflected with ease by the red-haired swordsman. Instantly Elijah pressed the attack, forcing Nida to dance back a few steps. As fast as Nida was, Elijah was better, more agile and flexible too, and soon enough Eljiah was dancing into, under, through Nida's guard and ramming his shoulder into Nida's chest, knocking him to the ground once more. This time, though, Nida stayed down. It was already the tenth time this evening that Elijah had knocked him down. Nida, on the other hand, had not even managed to make Elijah take a serious step back.

For a while the red-haired SeeD stood over Nida, looking at him with sheer contempt, as if he thought Nida a failure, as if he wasn't even sure how the younger man had ever managed to earn a place among the SeeDs. Then his expression abruptly softened, becoming almost affectionate as he offered his hand to Nida. The urge to smack the hand away flashed briefly across Nida's mind, but in the end Nida ignored it. It was obvious that Elijah was no longer in the mood for sparring, so Nida just reached for the hand and stood, leaving his blade where it lay.

“Okay, now, what did you do wrong today?” Elijah asked, sheathing his practice sword before tossing it into the grass off to the side. Quickly his foot darted out, coming up under the edge of Nida's fallen weapon, and deftly flipping it into the air, where Elijah caught it, sheathed it as well, and then tossed it aside to join its mate.

“I got angry,” Nida said with a sigh, trying to calm his breathing.

“Exactly. You told me once that when you fight with your polearms that you avoid me so well because you relax. Your mind had plenty of time to react, to turn away my blade when you wanted or block when you needed to.”

“It's different with a polearm,” Nida grumbled, shaking his head and moving towards where Elijah had thrown the blades. Once he reached there Nida plopped down in the grass and sighed. “I don't know how. It just is.”

“Simple,” Elijah said, moving to join Nida, though pausing to pick at an imaginary grain of dust on his red cotton shirt. “Somewhere inside, you're imagining the kind of situations you might be forced to rely on a sword in rather than one of your toys. You start to over analyze, you get annoyed with the unfamiliar, and then my taunting can easily turn that into anger. Anger can be useful, don't get me wrong. It makes your blows stronger, it can make you faster, but your mind gets slower, sloppier, and you end up dead. Get it?”

“Of course,” Nida sighed.

“Good. So the important thing for you to remember about swords is that you need to relax. After that it will come to you naturally. Trust me, I know swords and I can see you have the potential to be skilled with them. It's because you're smart. Swords are as much a mental weapon as a physical one after all.”

“Do you think I'll ever be good at it?” Nida asked, lying back in the grass to look at the distant sunset.

No sooner had he put his head down than his eyelids started to droop. Nida had to shake his head just to keep awake. It was at times like this that he regretted how busy his schedule kept him. These days Nida was so busy that it took things like this morning's challenge for him to get outdoors to enjoy the natural world. That in and of itself was almost depressing, for it was pleasant to be outside like this, relaxing under the setting sun. The sky was beautiful at sunset, and Nida did so love the sky.

“Nida, if you were ever to discard all those emotions and treat a sword as calmly and rationally as I've seen you treat, say, a halberd, you might even be able to beat me in a fight.”

That made Nida scoff, “Somehow I doubt that.”

Elijah laughed, as if Nida's denial was funny. Then again, maybe he did. “Of course. I said so, right? Hell, you'd be able to take on the Lion too. The way you deal with people when you've got your weapons, hell, it's almost like you know what they are going to do. I see it even when we're sparring and you get a little bit mad. Sometimes you move to block me even as I'm only just deciding how to attack. It's amazing.”

Nida rolled his eyes. “I've fought you so many times here, and in my dreams, that you're almost predictable. Or you would be if you didn't keep coming up with new insults to sling during a fight.”

“And yet I hear you held off three Elite SeeDs at once this morning. And with only improvised weapons. You've only ever fought them a handful of times before. Are you going to claim it's the same with them as it is with me?”

“Hardly. I got lucky.”

“Lucky my ass. Geez, Nida, do you really think I'll fall for something like that? I've known you since you came to Garden, and I can read you better than that. There is one thing, though, that I haven't figured out about you after all of these years?”

“And what is that?”

“Who are you trying to prove yourself to?”

Nida blinked once, twice, and then sat up to look at Elijah. “I don't...”

“Please don't lie to me, Nida. Ever since you made SeeD you've acted like you've had something to prove. You scrabble for levels, you over work yourself. At the rate you're going I'm surprised you haven't completely burned yourself out. So who in the world are you trying to prove yourself to?”

“Nobody,” Nida lied, though he knew Elijah wouldn't believe it.

“If you're not going to tell me then I'm going to guess.”

“Elijah...”

“And if I had to put my money on anyone, it'd be Cid. After all, Cid was the one that made the assignment for the group that was supposed to go to Timber. He all but chose the people who saved the world.”

“Cid knew they would get the job done,” Nida pointed out, though he didn't even believe his own words.

“But you don't believe that, do you? You think he picked them not because they were the best for it, but because they were all in his orphanage so long ago. Why them and not you? What made them a better choice than you when you'd done better than them on the test anyway?”

Nida shook his head, trying to ignore Elijah's words, but he couldn't. They had run through his own head many times since the war. Why Selphie, Zell and Squall instead of having him somewhere in the group? Hadn't he proved himself enough by making level 10 during the exam? Even now people barely remembered Nida's name, or that he even existed, and yet Cid had pointedly told Nida upon conferring his rank that Nida should try his best, even if other people didn't notice.

Hadn't he been good enough?

“Shut up,” Nida growled. “Just let it go.”

“Nida, please, I'm just worried. It won't kill you to relax once in a while. Whatever you think you have to prove can't be nearly as important as just enjoying life, now can it?”

That Nida ignored, looking instead into the sunset. Sometimes it was better just to ignore Elijah until he dropped whatever subject it was that you didn't like. The avoidance worked this time too, Nida was sure of it when Elijah sighed and moved to sit closer to Nida.

“Stubborn bastard.”

“You've never complained before,” Nida countered.

Elijah chuckled, then leaned in and placed a light kiss on Nida's cheek. “Yeah. But you're cute when you're stubborn.”

Nida rolled his eyes, and yet he couldn't help but smirk. “Must you always do that?”

“What? Call you cute?”

“You make me feel like I'm a girl or something.”

“Nope. Not a girl. Just cute,” Elijah said, before leaning in for a real kiss.


	3. Chapter 2

Thursdays were by far Nida's least favorite day of the week. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his alarm clock started to scream at him at five am, but Nida wasn't sure. With a groan Nida shook the last remnants of half remembered dreams from his head and reached out to smack his alarm clock silent. So began another Thursday morning, and Nida, as ever, was almost tempted to roll back over and go to sleep. The urge only increased when a warm arm snaked its way around his waist, and Nida heard the first grumbles from Elijah.

“Ten more minutes,” the red-haired man grumbled into Nida's back.

“If I didn't agree last week, or the week before, or in any of the ten weeks before that, why would I agree now?” Nida asked, prying Elijah's arm from around his waist.

“Stay in bed,” Elijah insisted, tightening his grip as best he could, though Nida was slowly gaining ground against the still yawning red-head.

“You know I can't. Too much to do before the meeting.”

“Work work work. All you ever do is work. Learn to relax.”

Nida rolled his eyes even though he agreed. Thursdays always made him agree with Elijah on things like this. The reason that Nida hated this day more than any other in the week was because it was on Thursday mornings that the counsel of higher ranking SeeDs which Squall had set up just after the war always had their meetings. These things, sometimes lasting as long as three hours, covered everything from test results and requests, to mission debriefings, to training improvement, and even ways that SeeDs could improve relations with foreign nations. International tension, after all, was one of the most dangerous mission sources for Gardens. How could you maintain a positive relationship with one country if another country hired you to spy on the first?

While not bad in and of themselves, the meetings quickly got tedious and sometimes it felt as if nothing important was done despite all that was said. Of course, there was also the fact that it overloaded Nida's already busy schedule, forcing him to get up earlier and go to bed later.

“You could always skip training for a single day and stay in bed with me. It wouldn't kill you, would it?”

Nida smiled and turned to look at Elijah, placing a hand on Elijah's cheek. Just as the red-head started to smile back Nida brought his fingers together to pinch the skin. Elijah just smiled, not releasing Nida despite the implied threat, despite the fact that Elijah well knew that Nida was going to do the same thing he did almost every week when Elijah was like this. For a full minute Nida waited, and at last he sighed and twisted the flesh pinched between his fingers. The yelp that came from Elijah was almost enough to make Nida wince, but the fact that Elijah pulled away at the same time, wriggling back and pulling the blankets up over his head, made Nida grin. At least Nida was sure that that would always work.

Still, better not to leave the temptation for Elijah by staying in one place. Quickly Nida untangled himself from the sheets and slipped from the bed. With a sigh he made his way towards the closet to change. A worn t-shirt and jeans were thrown on as well as a pair of boots, all of which he would trade out for a uniform after he showered in the training area post-practice. Clothes on hangers were then pushed aside so that Nida could look over a series of hooks that lined the walls of his closet and bore his prized possessions, his polearms. All were polished to gleaming perfection, every blade sharpened to a razor sharp edge, and each one was different. Everything from the most basic pikes and spears to the more complex fauchard forks, and elegant war scythes. Nida's fingers brushed over the shafts of the weapons before he took a small, plain metal stick from a series of racks with near identical sticks of various lengths.

Nida quickly selected one of the brushed metal sticks and tossed it from his left hand to his right before flicking it backwards. There was a yelp before Nida turned and frowned at Elijah, who was now cradling his right hand to his chest, his knuckles already bright red from the whack Nida had given them.

“Give it up,” Nida sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. After a moment he couldn't help but start twirling the metal rod in his hand. “Have you ever been able to sneak up on me this early in the morning? Have you ever been able to sneak up on me when we weren't sparring?”

Elijah stood there, rubbing the back of his hand and giving Nida an almost convincing pout. The only reason the pilot didn't give in to the look was because Nida had struck himself more than once when first learning to fight. While it stung, Nida knew he hadn't used enough force to do anything resembling damage. Still, when Elijah kept up the act, Nida sighed and took the 'injured' hand. Then, eyes closed, Nida reached for one of the cure spells he had perpetually fixed to mind.

It was hard, Nida knew, to fix any spell to mind for any length of time, allowing the person fixing it to use the spell even without junction. There were few people who had the skill, and even less were proficient at it or capable of doing it with more than one spell. Fujin, for instance, was quite adept at wind spells, and Squall could use high level ice spells without much difficulty. Nida, though, was only able to fix low end cures spells and the occasional silence if he spent time on it. Parting with one of the fixed spells was an annoyance, but he knew it was less annoying than letting Elijah keep up the act. As much as Nida was fond of the other SeeD, he didn't have patience on Thursday mornings.

“There. All better. Now either go back to bed or get ready. Either way just let me get on my way, okay?”

“Lend me one of your shirts,” Elijah said, ducking past Nida and all but diving into the closet.

“Get your own shirt,” Nida sighed, pulling Elijah back with a sigh.

“Easier this way. Then we can spar sooner.”

“No. I don't want to fight this morning, Nida. I just want to practice.”

“Oh come on, a little spar wouldn't hurt, right? It's been almost forever since I've fought you when you've had your sticks.”

“Polearms, Elijah,” Nida corrected. “And we sparred only last week, so don't give me that forever deal.”

“You're no fun.”

“Not what you said last night,” Nida countered as he pushed Elijah out of the way.

With Elijah aside Nida moved back into the closet. Quickly he pulled the mate to the rod he had in hand, a heavy practice tambo. These two went into a leather pouch that was slung on a hook and were followed by several smaller lengths of metal pole. Finally Nida hung the pouch from his shoulder and brushed his fingers across several of his polearms before at last letting his hand close around a long metal pole that was almost seven feet long. Despite how heavy the simple stick was, almost twice the weight of Nida's normal polearms, he picked it up easily before heading for the door.

“Now he feels playful,” Elijah grumbled, making his way towards the bed.

“I'll see you at the meeting,” Nida said as he paused at the door. “And set an alarm this time, or you'll sleep through it again.”

“Yes mommy.”

Nida barely heard this last jibe, already as he was on the way out of the room, shaking off that weird after feeling he normally associated with deja vu passed.

 

* * * * *

 

Seven thirty found Nida freshly fed, showered, and slipping into the conference room that now dominated the basement level once ruled by NORG. Bagel and coffee in hand Nida nodded to those who had unsurprisingly beat him to the conference room. Never had Nida been the first to arrive, how could he be when there were people like Squall around? From what he heard, Squall arrived almost an hour before the scheduled start of any meetings when he could. At the moment the SeeD Commander was giving the coldest glare he could manage—one that sent shivers down Nida's spine—to the unnaturally perky Selphie. Xu was also present at her accustomed place to Squall's left, sorting through whatever reports she and Quistis would give during the course of the meeting, though the blond woman was not yet present.

Carefully Nida placed the hot cup of coffee and the bagel on the table before his settling down at the table, his foot purposefully nudging against that of Irvine's as he sat. The gunner's head rose from where it had been resting on the other side of the table, and shot Nida a look almost dirty enough to carry a thousand curses without a word, almost as bad as one of Squall's glares.

“You know,” Nida teased, “I think we should move our training sessions up to this time of morning. It would do you good.”

It was amazing to see just how much dirtier the look became, and icy as well, almost as much as one of Squall's. Then again, it was no secret that Irvine hated the timing of these weekly meetings, often suggesting that they changed. As often as not, Irvine half slept through the meetings, though Selphie was more than happy to bump him awake. Unlike the Trabian girl, the gunner was a night owl, not an early bird. Hell, Nida was much the same.

“Fuck you,” Irvine croaked out.

“That is hardly polite,” Nida laughed.

“Must you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act cheerful?” Irvine growled.

Nida smiled as brightly as he could. “Am I not allowed to even though Selphie does it all the time? And really, must you sleep? Surely you get enough at night.”

Something in the conversation, maybe her name, had drew Selphie's attention. The petite brunette smiled, wiggled her eyebrows, and leaned in close to Nida, as if telling a secret even though she pitched her voice so that Irvine could easily hear.

“I tried to get him to sleep last night, but he had so much energy.”

The comment turned Irvine's face and ears red and he buried his face in his arm as Nida started to snicker.

“Don't worry,” Nida said as he regained control of himself, his snickering dying away. “I promise I won't tell anyone.”

“I don't,” Selphie cheerfully said, which got her a a smack from Irvine. “Well, Zell will be here soon enough, and Quistis once she's finished whatever she's working on. We can start the meeting then, right?”

“Elijah,” both Nida and Irvine corrected, though Nida could hear annoyance in Irvine's voice while Nida had pitched his voice towards patience.

“Oh. Right,” Selphie said, rubbing the back of her neck. “He's always so late that I forget he's even supposed to be here.”

It was hard to blame her for that because more often than not Elijah showed up late, earning dirty looks from Quistis and Xu, but barely being noticed by other people. When you had a situation like that it was hard to remember that Elijah even belonged there. Still, belong there he did, and Nida found himself reaching for one of the phones that sat in the middle of the table. Quickly he dialed his own room extension and was about to hang up as the fifth ring began, only to suddenly hear a noise on the line. Granted the noise was a combination of clattering, cursing, and a loud thump, but it was a noise none the less, and likely meant that Elijah was at least awake now. Of course it also sounded like he would be in pain, as Nida was more than willing to bet that the last part of the sound was Elijah falling out of the bed, especially when the resultant groan was taken into account.

“What?" Elijah's voice finally came across on the line, a grumpy demand at best.

“This is your seven thirty-five wake up call.”

“Shit!”

Then, as abruptly as it was answered, the line was dead. With a sigh Nida replaced the receiver on the cradle and tried to figure out exactly what in his room Elijah might have knocked over to account for that clattering. Hopefully nothing fragile, but if it was then Nida was more than willing to make the other SeeD pay for it, one way or another.

When Nida looked up he found his gaze meeting Irvine's, the gunner's bright violet eyes inquisitive. “He just get up?”

“Wasn't up at all. I figure that he'll make it here on time though.”

“He'll be late. No way he makes it in twenty-five minutes,” Irvine countered, sounding exceedingly confident of the fact, though the effect was ruined by the fact that his head was still resting on his arm.

“He won't be late.”

“Ten gil.”

“You're on.”

Nida reached out across the table, holding his hand out to shake, and couldn't help but chuckle as Irvine looked at it warily. At last the gunner lifted his head just long enough to extend his arm and shake, before going back to using it as a pillow.

Soon enough silence regained dominance in the room, interrupted only briefly for the arrival of Quistis and Zell. Finally there was only the sound of shifting papers and Irvine lifting his head frequently to glance at his watch. Each time Irvine's smile seemed to grow, his confidence in winning the bet obvious. Nida, though, just smiled and pushed the warm cup of coffee and bagel towards the seat on his right, even as the door of the conference room slid open. Everyone looked up then, and Nida just smirked as he saw Elijah stumble in, still looking exhausted. The red-haired man plopped down into the seat next to Nida and gratefully reached for the coffee, draining half of the cup before even pausing to take a breath. In fact, Nida suspected that the only thing which really caused Elijah to put the cup down was hearing the groan as Irvine fished out his wallet and withdrew a ten gil note to slide over to Nida.

At that point Squall cleared his throat to call the meeting into order, and Nida had to hold back a sigh of annoyance. As expected he found himself still sitting there an hour later, all but dosing through Xu's various reports. Just like every other week it was tedious and uninteresting, and already Irvine and Elijah had put their heads down to nap.

Nida must have nodded off himself because he found his head jerking up suddenly, and Xu was saying something completely different than what he had last remembered her talking about. Likely the only reason Nida had even become aware of it now was because Xu was mentioning something about Winhill, Nida's hometown.

“SeeD Burgess also noted that some of the rumors were more interesting than normal during his resupply. Apparently there a stranger has moved to Winhill recently.”

“I fail to see why this is important,” Irvine's voice slipped out from behind the arm that pillowed his head. Apparently the gunner was more awake than Nida had given him credit for.

“Burgess admitted that he too would not have noted it were it not for the description of the man. Word is that he is blond and has a scar on his face.”

Nida watched as Irvine's attention, not to mention that of the other members of the Orphanage Gang, snapped towards Xu so fast that Nida was sure that the assembled group probably had several cases of whiplash between them. It wasn't a surprising reaction really, there had been attempts to find Seifer Almasy, the former Sorceress Knight, starting shortly after his departure from Balamb Town four months ago. Why they were so interested Nida did not know, he'd never been fond of Seifer as it was, but chances were that someone would be sent to Winhill to determine the truth of the rumor. Nida knew he would not envy the person who was selected for the task as Seifer was not only a hard man to track down, but no one knew how he'd react to having a SeeD sent after him.

Yet, despite Nida's certainty that Squall would act, the SeeD commander sat silently in his chair at the head of the table, looking for all the world as if he had not even heard Xu. Instead Squall waited for the room to quiet before picking up a piece of paper that had been sitting in front of him for the entirety of the meeting.

“One of Trabia Garden's instructors is retiring soon and they are holding a celebration. He is the only instructor to have been in Garden employ since establishment, and was previously a Galbadian soldier and veteran in the first Sorceress. Cid has requested an honor guard of high level SeeDs from all Gardens to be present. As such I'm putting the offer first to those present here.”

“Who's retiring?” Selphie asked, already squirming in her seat. Likely, Nida thought, she would offer herself for a position. After all, Selphie had lived at Trabia Garden for a descent portion of her life.

“The combat instructor Boyce Megill...”

Squall got no further in the face of the rush of words that poured from Selphie, her voice both elated and sad.

“Megil was SO cool! I learned nunchaku from him! He was awesome at picking the right weapons for the right people and...”

“Relax, sweetie,” Nida heard Irvine whisper, and from the corner of his eye he caught Squall shooting the gunner an almost thankful look. Selphie even seemed to calm for a minute.

“The honor guard is to consist of two SeeD to represent each Garden. Eligibility is based on rank and Garden that original training took place at. Trabia has also requested that former students of Megill be allowed to attend if it does not conflict with missions or lessons. We have been asked to compile a list of those interested and capable of attending on the suggested date. Now, is anyone interested in the honor guard?”

Surprisingly four hands shot up at the question. Well, three of them were a surprise. Nida doubted anyone was shocked to find Selphie bouncing around in her seat with both arms raised and waving, flailing enough that Irvine was leaning away from her as if worried he would be hit by accident. More surprising was Irvine's hand raised beside her, though his lacked the enthusiasm his girlfriend was exhibiting. Further down the table Xu had also raised her own hand, even though she was still jotting down notes in the margin of her papers. Yet the most shocking to Nida was the fact that Elijah had awoken from one of his naps to raise his own hand.

Squall too seemed a little shocked by this, his eyebrow raised just the slightest bit. “You would all like positions?”

For a moment there was no response. At last Elijah spoke, which Nida was sure was the only thing more surprising than the red-haired man volunteering himself for anything.

“I don't know about the rest of them, but Megill really helped me out. He spent a year here when we were younger, remember? Megill trained me himself, allowed me to get a real weapon and start working in the training center a year early. Everything I know, everything I've achieved, is due to Boyce Megill. I feel obligated to be there when he finally moves on to greener pastures.”

“I agree,” Xu added. “When Boyce came here I had just made SeeD but I worked with staves and my combat ability was never the best. Megill handed me my first crossbow.”

Selphie bounced around excitedly, though she did not add her own story, already having shared. Beside her, though, Irvine remained silent, his face obscured by the hat he wore. What connection he had with Megill he apparently wasn't about to share.

“Understood. Xu, please seek out another Trabian and Galbadian SeeD. And if there is nothing else, you are dismissed.”

Immediately everyone began to gather up what things they had brought and the report files Quistis had passed out at the meetings beginning. Selphie ignored her own mess, leaving it for Irvine, and bounced her way over to Elijah, where she immediately started to ask him about his time with Megill. Elijah just shook his head and waved the girl off with a yawn, heading for the door and complaining about a lack of real food. Upon reaching the door the red-head looked back, his eyes meeting Nida's for just a moment as he inclined his head just so to the side, a silent request for Nida to join him. Nida took a moment longer to gather up his things, more than willing to spend what little time he had left before the busyness set in with the man who had won him ten gil, but a single sentence cut through the buzz of conversation that filled the post-meeting air.

“Nida, a moment.”

Nida looked towards Squall and frowned before nodding, caught off guard by Squall's command. These days it felt like Squall was the only higher level SeeD who didn't seem to notice Nida at all. Yet here Nida stood, specifically called out by the SeeD Commander. The very prospect of a few minutes alone with Squall was something Nida wasn't sure how to feel about. Should he feel proud that he had been recognized for something by the man, or should he worry just what could come with a conversation with one of the most powerful men in the world, especially one who could order him into life threatening situations with little effort.

In silence Nida remained in his seat as the conference room emptied out, leaving him alone at last with the Lion of Balamb. It was only as the door closed behind Quistis that Squall looked up from the papers arrayed before him, a serious look in his steely eyes. That seriousness, though, was the only thing that Nida could read of Squall. The silence that extended out from the man was indecipherable to Nida, though it seemed that often enough the Orphanage Gang was capable of reading the stoic Commander. Then again, they had spent far more time with Squall during the war than Nida, who had been nothing more than a glorified chauffeur for the greater part of it, rarely even given the chance to join combat with the enemy.

The silence held for a moment, then two, before Nida finally cleared his throat, hoping that the noise would prompt some response from the seemingly pensive Squall. Luckily the tactic seemed to work, and Squall sighed before starting to gather the papers in front of him into a neat stack.

“You're from Winhill,” Squall stated, and Nida couldn't help but grimace. Something told him that nothing good would come from Squall being familiar with that fact, Of course he was a little shocked to find him familiar with it, but that was something to contemplate at another time.

“As from it as a Garden student could be, sir.”

For a moment Squall looked almost curious, and Nida couldn't help but feel like he needed to explain the comment. “Like a lot of Garden students our age, I was a war orphan. I was adopted though, by a woman from Winhill. She passed away a few years later though, when I was about eleven, and no one was willing to take me in. I was sent to Garden as a result, but Galbadia would not have me, something about Winhill people being too soft, so I was sent to Balamb. I've been here in Garden for long enough that I'm all but an outsider back home. The fact that I'm the only SeeD to come from the town other than yourself means very little to them. I wasn't even born there.”

Squall nodded. “But they never knew me, and consider me an outsider as well. I have heard, though, that they refer to you as 'our young SeeD.'”

The words made Nida flinch. Why the people of Winhill referred to him as such Nida yet to figure out. He had only lived in Winhill for four years before his mother's death, and Nida had rarely spent time with the villagers when he returned during breaks or to visit his mother's grave. Then again, they still called him 'Daphne's boy' as well, and 'young Nida,' just as they had when he had still lived there. At least that was what Nida remembered now. Whether any of that was accurate or not was something he could hardly be sure of when one considered the fact that Nida had been using GFs on and off for years, and most of his youth was foggy at best. Still, Nida remembered his mother's face and kindness if nothing else, and returned when he could to Winhill to honor her memory. Maybe it was that which made the villagers fond of him.

“Laguna and Ellone hear whispers of it when the visit the village.”

And that, Nida assumed, explained Squall's knowledge of what Nida was called and the very fact that Nida was from Winhill.

“They tell Ellone more, though. She was always considered one of them, so she could cut through the rumors easily enough to figure out the truth.”

There, then, was the confirmation of Nida's first fear when he had heard Squall mention his hometown.

“No,” Nida said, knowing Squall would understand the meaning behind the world. As he said it, though, Nida found himself able to read the silence that came from Squall. It said 'you don't really have a choice.'

“I understand why you wouldn’t want to send Selphie or Zell,” Nida quickly added, “but there are choices other than me.”

Squall sighed and shook his head. “Quistis was his instructor, and he never respected her. Xu dislikes him. Irvine and Seifer never saw eye to eye as children, and have only faced each other in fights since then. And if I go, there will be fighting.”

“Elijah then.”

Again Squall shook his head. “I want you to go the weekend of the Megill celebration. Elijah has already expressed interest in attending, and he would be more than obvious in a town like Winhill. Elijah was also the squad leader during Seifer's first SeeD examination. Seifer disobeyed an order from Elijah and failed by a narrow margin.”

This was something that Nida had never known, but considering what he did remember of Elijah and Seifer's infrequent interactions at Garden when they were younger, Nida didn't doubt it. The relationship between Elijah and Seifer was almost as bad as that between Elijah and Irvine, though the reason was more obvious with Seifer. Nida had more than once watched the pair get in disagreements because Elijah couldn't stand the blond pushing other people around.

“You are the only real choice. You have no previous ties to Seifer of any consequence. You possess intimate knowledge of the area and relationships with people who can provide information. You will be better prepared to head off rumors of your arrival than any other SeeD. You score high in diplomacy and information retrieval. And from what I heard yesterday, you can handle yourself against Class-A Elite SeeDs, a necessity when dealing with someone like Seifer.”

At first Nida was speechless, and not only because of what had amounted to almost a speech from Squall. All of this information meant not only that the others had spoken to Squall about him, but that Squall had read Nida's records. Granted it was likely Squall was only familiar with them because the SeeD Commander needed to be familiar with what people were suited to which missions, but Nida still hadn't expected Squall to know so much.

“I've even had recommendations that you be tested for Class-A now.”

That was almost more shocking.

“Who... When... What?”

“Irvine was the first,” Squall said, his papers now set aside, his gray-blue eyes focused only on Nida at this point. “Two months ago. Selphie and Quistis have added their voices within the last two weeks, and Zell was rather enthusiastic about it yesterday. Elijah has been suggesting it for months himself, and I have been inclined from his arguments to at least limit the amount of exams you could take in a month so that you stop overworking yourself. As such I would suggest you consider this to be a chance for me to gauge your abilities. Selphie and Quistis have both gone out to follow up on rumors and have found nothing, and that in places more open with information.”

Nida turned his gaze to stare at his hands, shocked by the turn of events. These last two months Nida had grown less sure about wanting to be Class-A, but with the position all but being offered to him, Nida was less sure about being unsure. Then again having something like finding Seifer being a test, Nida wasn't sure he could handle it. As Squall had said, no one had come back with good information yet, and who knew if Nida would have any better luck.

“Well,” Nida said after a few minutes of thinking, “I guess I couldn't refuse even if I wanted to at this point.”

“Good. I expect you to present me with your plans for approaching this assignment by this time next week.”


	4. Chapter 3

Nida could do nothing more than watch from where he knelt on the floor behind Elijah, his hand clamped tightly over the cut that stretched across his right bicep. A part of his mind screamed about staunching the flow of blood, taking up the nearby sword, and joining in the battle that took place before him. Yet Nida's eyes were mesmerized by the dance of Elijah's red-tinted sword. It was, Nida could not help but note as he watched it draw blood, the same shade as blood smeared on normal steel.

As Nida watched Elijah lifted the blade to block one, two blows from foes whose faces Nida could not see for the fog that pressed in around them. Another block, followed by a parry, and Elijah started to twist the blade in his hand, aiming to cut at where the eyes of one enemy likely were. The blur in the fog—man, woman, or something else—seemed to dance back a step before the other blur struck out at Elijah. Every cell in Nida's body wanted him to rush in to block the blow for Elijah. Something in his head, though, knew that it would not touch the SeeD.

Elijah's blade lashed out again into the fog, and there was a shout of pain that Nida could barely hear for the way it echoed around and through him. A hit, Nida was sure, for Elijah's red blade came back with a liquid gleam at the edge. Amazing, Nida mused, how similar blood and water could look upon the weapon of the one known as the Red SeeD.

But maybe that was the point.

Nida didn't have a chance to ponder that idea, though, for an irritating beeping cut into the fog of the dream, driving it away and Nida into wakefulness. Friday, five in the morning, and Nida almost wanted to rip the alarm clock from its plug and fling the thing at a wall. Yesterday had been bad enough, but a second day was almost too much. Nida reached out and flipped a switch, turning off the alarm even as his eyes opened to glare at the device. Chances were the damn clock took some sort of demented pleasure from seeing Nida exhausted.

“Finally coming around to my way of seeing things?” Elijah chuckled from where he rested at Nida's side.

“I say fuck SeeD and Garden,” Nida grumbled. “The money just isn't worth it.”

“Well, don't fuck all of them. I kind of have a bit of a claim on you, remember. Then again some of them, like Squall, do have a nice...”

“We could retire to Winhill,” Nida cut Elijah off, hardly in the mood to deal with the red-head jokingly referring to any guy like that. “I own a place there. We could just enjoy the world for once, far away from missions and five in the morning.”

“You've got a place there?”

“Yeah. Daphne left me it,” Nida said with a yawn, stretching and moving to pull the blanket back up around his ears. It wasn't like he was the one who needed to be up this early anyway. The alarm had been meant for Elijah, not Nida. “I'll steal the Ragnarok, and you could sweet talk food out of the cafeteria ladies.”

“A perfect plan,” Elijah laughed. “We'll put it into motion after I get back from Trabia, okay?”

With that, Elijah levered himself out of the bed, though far from careful not to jostle Nida. It took a lot for Nida not to grab the pillow Elijah had been using and hit the man with it for being so rude, but he held still. This was the second morning of the week that they had awoken so early. Yesterday Elijah had hauled himself from bed with ease, excited about dealing with the last bit of planning left before the departure for Trabia Garden and a retirement party. The better part of Thursday meetings the last two weeks had involved the party in one way or another, and Elijah had been excited enough to wake up early and train with Nida. Today, though, they were up early as Elijah and the other SeeDs were flying out first thing to deal with the physical preparations for the event tomorrow afternoon.

That didn't mean, though, that Nida was getting off lightly. Unbeknownst to Elijah or any other SeeD save Squall, Nida would be departing later in the day for his work in Winhill. With Squall's help Nida had been able to arrange a quiet means to get into Winhill that would draw no more attention than Nida's normal returns to the isolated village. Granted that meant that while three o'clock Balamb time would find Elijah knee deep in party prep, Nida would be in the Deling port, waiting to board a cargo transport bound for the Winhill area.

“Come on,” Elijah said, whipping the blanket back from Nida. “I want one more spar before I go, so haul your ass out of that bed.”

“Fuck you,” Nida grumbled, reaching to try and tug the blankets back, only to find Elijah unwilling to relent.

“That too,” the red-head said, his voice mischievous, “but it can wait.”

“Odd to see you so eager to be up,” Nida complained, ignoring the innuendo. Still, Nida started to give into Elijah's demand anyway, sighing and moving to sit up on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Boyce... He... Well, let's just say I owe him a lot.”

“So a lot of people are saying these days. The sheer number of times I've heard his name these last two weeks almost makes me shudder.”

That wasn't completely true. It wasn't the amount of times that the name was said that put Nida on edge, but the odd fact that the very sound of Megill's name made his stomach do odd flip-flops. Nothing explained the odd feeling in his stomach though, as if he would be sick, so Nida hadn't really mentioned it before now, preferring to look away from the speakers to hide the grimace that always came to him. Honestly, it would be nice to be in Winhill for a few days, far away from the name Boyce Megill and the near fearful sickness it put into him. Better than being here at Garden, unable to explain the feeling, or convince someone that he had a bad feeling about the man. Nida's gut feelings never paid off like they did for other SeeDs.

“Say no more. Still, I'm excited. Oh, let's not use practice blades today. I hear plenty of rumors of you putting that bo of yours to good use, so I wanna check out how you've been doing before I go away. Besides, better that I don't go away with you angry because I wiped the floor with you after a sword fight.”

Nida rolled his eyes and rose to make for his closet and some good clothes for training. As much as he didn't want to fight this morning, he could think of no reason that would win over such an excited Elijah. Better just to take out his annoyance to Elijah in a fight than try and dissuade him now.

“Your funeral,” Nida said as he found the pair of pants he had worn to practice the morning before and pulled them on. 'Don't blame me when you've got bruises and aches for your celebrations tomorrow.”

“I won't, because there won't be any. But I'll give you another chance to leave some when I get back on Sunday.”

“Sorry. I'll be busy stealing the Rag so we can run away together, remember?”

Elijah laughed. “Then I'll hold you to that instead.”

 

* * * * *

 

People, Nida had noticed, changed when they had a weapon in their hands. Sometimes it was out of fear of being in a situation where a weapon was needed, sometimes it was from desperation. For Nida at this moment the driving force was the man coming at him with a sword in hand. Yet with a polearm in hand Nida was unbothered by this. With the weapon in hand Nida felt as if his whole being was smoothed out, calm and capable of flowing like water or air. Every muscle in his body not devoted to his stance or gripping his bo was relaxed, his mind was blank of everything but the man lunging for him. There was a readiness too, his whole body more than ready to pounce on his prey, yet without the tensing of muscles that would make his movements too confined, too jerky. The whole of his mind was spread out around him, his whole body liquid, and Nida was ready to move and flow with anything that came at him.

All of these thoughts came and went in the seconds that it took for Nida to twist his bo in his grip into a block that redirected the blow Elijah had aimed for his head. The stillness was gone then as Nida turned and flowed past Elijah, one end of his bo smacking Elijah's shin, hard, as the Red SeeD's momentum made him continue forward into the spot Nida had occupied just moments before. The emptiness did not stop Elijah though, and quickly the other SeeD turned, his sword coming at Nida again from another angle. Again and again the sword lashed out, and time and time again Nida deflected, parried, dodged the weapon, flowing smoothly from one movement to another. Save for knocking Elijah's legs or rapping the man's knuckles, Nida did not truly lash out.

“Are you ever going to fucking attack?” Elijah snarled, trying once more to get in side of the long defenses Nida's bo afforded him.

“When I feel the need,” Nida responded calmly, though he felt his lips curl faintly upward in a smile.

With every minute of sparring, Elijah became increasingly agitated with Nida's almost pacifistic defense. Each attack came faster than the last, was stronger, and it was all for nothing. More than that, Nida could see that Elijah's energy was starting to wane. Just seeing that made Nida feel like he could easily take out Quistis, Zell, and Selphie all at once without much more work than this. Even though they were all of a higher level than Elijah, Nida for one was sure that Elijah's combat skill was higher than any of those three on an individual level.

“Well then, I guess I'll have to force you.”

What made Elijah so dangerous to fight was his speed, something that Nida had known since he had first faced the swordsman. In fact, it was for that very reason that Nida had trained with Elijah for so long. While polearms were good for those who needed some extra range or sought to use the leverage for more powerful attacks, speed was what Nida had truly desired for the way he sought to fight. Fighting against someone who was fast could not only teach you to handle that speed, but to become that fast yourself. Over the years Nida had learned one other thing from fighting the swordsman: how to watch. Nida unfocused his eyes just the slightest bit so that he was looking just in front of Elijah, and thus allowing him to see all of Elijah's body at once. It was Nida's hope that like this he could find some small sign of how Elijah would move next.

Only like this could Nida truly appreciate Elijah's speed. One second Elijah was dancing out of the reach of Nida's comfortable six foot reach, and the next he was a foot away from Nida, a red blur or strikes that Nida barely brought up his bo to take. The wooden staff did not take all of the blows though, not all of them were directed at the logical areas after all. Nida was trying too hard to protect himself from the sharp edge of Elijah's weapon to notice it at first, and it wasn't until the blossoming of pain in his left side that realization hit Nida. Elijah was no longer relying only on his sword. Every third or fourth blow was a punch or kick delivered to places left open by Nida's defense against the sword. Nor was there anything that Nida could really do about it, not with the way that each strike found Nida pulling his defense in closer, until there was only inches between the bo and his body, hardly leaving Nida any time at all to defend.

This was a speed that Nida had never known in Elijah, had never expected. After years of fighting he had been certain that there was nothing that Elijah was holding back. Yet as a fist barely flew past his temple, Nida could not help but realize that he had seen such speed before. It had been in one of his dreams filled with smoke and fog, much like the one he had awoken from this morning, like the ones that happened so frequently these days. Each smoke dream only had certain things he remembered, and yet he always remembered those as clearly as if they had lived them. And, Nida was startled to realize, he had once dreamt of Elijah like this, attacking and laughing like a madman. It had ended, Nida remembered, with him pinned to the ground with Elijah's sword through his stomach.

The very thought of it sickened Nida, made him recoil from Elijah and the memory of the dream. As he stepped back his heel struck something, and Nida started to fall backwards. At the last moment he caught himself, instinct taking over from the mind, and just as Elijah was raising his sword to deal another blow, Nida did the last thing he would have thought wise for this sort of fight; he thrust himself forward into the blow. At the same time his hands spread to positions further apart on his bo, and he raised the lower side to come up to divert Elijah's strike. With the same movement Nida found himself twisting the movement, pushing at the same time to force the blade to the side. Elijah pulled back, and Nida took the chance to act, twisting his body to plant his right foot firmly before him on the ground and allowing his left leg snapping up to kick at Elijah's open side. The swordsman danced back just in time, eyes wide in shock, and Nida gave him no chance to recover.

Nida obliged the swordsman's desire for a close quarters fight, using his bo as a support as he twisted around it with kicks and flying knees that drove Elijah back across the open ground outside of Garden where they always sparred. A kick towards the temple was protected by Elijah's sword, but left Elijah with no choice but to take a knee to the stomach, though he lessened its impact by forcing the air from his own lungs as the blow came. Soon enough Elijah had decided the close range conflict was too much and jumped back a step, bringing him back into the idea range for Nida's weapon work, and without hesitation Nida brought his bo back into play. In quick succession Nida aimed a jab at the SeeD's stomach, swept at his feet, and finally knocked so hard at Elijah's hand that the red-head dropped his sword. The attack didn't end there though. Disarmed in no way meant harmless with a SeeD.

Before he could do anything, though, Elijah's hands were thrown up in submission.

“Yield!” Elijah shouted, his hands thrown up to block Nida's oncoming attack, and Nida stopped the weapon not an inch away from Elijah's face.

“You're going to let something as simple as being disarmed stop you?”

“That and curiosity,” Elijah admitted as he moved towards where his sword had fallen. “How in the world did you do that? I've gone that fast on maybe seven people before. Only two of them are still alive right now, and only one has ever turned it against me.”

“That many?” Nida asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. You and Boyce.”

Nida could not help but flinch away from Megill's name, not that he could explain the reason. Thankfully Elijah seemed to ignore that, even though Nida was certain that the swordsman had seen it.

“Most people see how fast I go normally and think I'm going all out,” Elijah said as he turned towards the Garden entrance. “It helps if they have seen me take out other people first, though. Then, when I really need it, I've got not only more speed, but surprise on my side. A mortal blow tends to come within three strikes unless I stay my hand. No one has ever suspected it until you.”

“And Megill?”

“He taught me,” Elijah said as they came upon the entrance. In silence they continued until they had passed the turnstiles, and then Elijah sighed. “It makes sense for Boyce to see it coming, but you... Damn Nida, you're really getting a lot better than I ever would have expected out of you.”

“The first blocks were instinct,” Nida admitted, smirking. “After that I knew what you were doing. It was like I'd seen it before. You know?”

“Not really. That isn't the kind of thing you see every day, even in the middle of a war and with Time Compression.”

Nida sighed, his fingers playing across the length of his bo. Saying anything else would likely sound crazy, wouldn't it? Especially if Nida said something like he had seen it in a smoke dream. The things had started unexpectedly after the Sorceress War, and Nida didn't know how to explain them or the way that they sometimes seemed to crop up like today. Still, it might be worth the effort. Elijah, at the very least, would try to understand, right? They had been together too long for Elijah not to try and take him at his world.

“It's like a dream.”

When Nida looked at Elijah he was almost surprised to find the man's eyes wide, shocked but somehow almost accepting.

“A dream? What do you mean?”

“I have them sometimes,” Nida said as he turned their path past the elevator area so they could head towards the dorm room. “One or two things are clear, and the rest is like trying to see through smoke.”

“What are they about?” Elijah asked, sounding oddly serious, which Nida was thankful for. He wasn't sure he could handle teasing about this, at least not from Elijah.

“Nothing really. But sometimes I see things that sort of happen, only not. Sort of close but not what I actually dreamt. Sort of like deja vu I guess. They only really started after the war, but I had one or two before, like about the turret on the SeeD exam. About a month before I had a dream where you did that to something in the smoke, but I didn't know why. So I tried it at that point...”

Nida shook his head and sighed. “You know what, forget it. I sound sort of crazy like this.”

“I don't think it's all that crazy. Two dreams showing you two of my best, most secret moves ahead of time? Come on, that is cool, don't you think?”

When he looked again at Elijah, Nida was sure he saw sincerity there, mixed with something he couldn't quite recognize or read. Still, Nida couldn't bear to look at Elijah with that look, especially since something was keeping him from sharing the dream he'd had that morning with Elijah.

“Thanks.”

“No prob. Now, how about a story while we walk?”

Nida made a show of rolling his eyes before smiling and nodding. Elijah's stories were always the most ridiculous of things, over-embellishments of missions Elijah had been on, or fairy tales even children didn't believe. Then again, Nida didn't mind them, sometimes it was entertaining to hear Elijah tell Nida about a mission they had both been on in the last few months where Elijah found a way to almost make Nida believe that Elijah had done it all himself. The stories were always entertaining and the ego boosting nature of them bothered Nida less than they amused him.

“A new one?”

Elijah nodded. “About Hyne.”

Here Nida raised an eyebrow. “Classics aren't really your normal area, 'Lijah.”

“True, but put up with it anyway? It was my favorite as a child.” When Nida nodded his consent, Elijah took on a serious voice and began to tell his story.

“Once upon a time there was a great man named Hyne. Hyne was the ruler of the world, but he was a lazy man, and decided that he would make a tool to make his life easier. Thus Hyne came up with a neat little tool that made more tools by itself. Soon these tools made more, and those made more, and there were very many in the world, and these tools were people.”

“I think I've heard this one before,” Nida said as he rubbed his stomach, hoping to sooth the sudden illness that filled him. The comment only earned him a glare from Elijah though.

“Yeah, well now you're going to hear it the right way, okay? No one tells it right anymore.”

Nida nodded silently, but frowned nonetheless.

“Okay, so when Hyne woke up from a nap he was surprised to find a lot of people in the world. Hyne wanted to reduce the number of people so he used his magic to burn up the smallest of the people. These small people were children and people cherished the children very much. So the people mourned and rebelled against their father Hyne for he was cruel. For all of his magic, though, the people had something greater for they had lived long and hard lives together and by living these lives they had gained something that Hyne had never expected: they had grown clever.”

A sigh of relief escaped Nida as he caught sight of the door of his room while he tried to tune out Elijah's story and the illness it made in his stomach. Something about the story was wrong, very wrong. The same feeling that had come to appear with Megill's name now plagued Nida with Elijah's very story. It was something the likes of which Nida had only experienced once before, back during the war whenever he had heard someone speak Ultimecia's name. By the time they reached his door Nida was thankful that Elijah quieted himself, even as the word 'Zebalga' floated across his mind and almost found Nida doubling over from the pain it put into his stomach. Why the word had reached Nida even as he tried to shut out Elijah's words.

Quickly Nida punched in the code at his door and frowned when, as the door slid open to reveal Irvine lounging on one of the tall stools by Nida's table. How Irvine was able to lounge in a tall, backless chair, Nida never could have said, but that was what was going on nonetheless.

Irvine looked up as the door slid open, and upon seeing Irvine, Elijah promptly shut up. Long since tired of dealing with the pair's inability to get along, Nida just breezed into the room, ignoring either one of the other two SeeDs. Back when Nida had given Irvine the code to access his room, Elijah had dared to argue with Nida about it. Despite Nida's logical point that Irvine needed access to real practice weapons when Nida wasn't available, Elijah had still argued. It hadn't helped that Irvine had gone out of his way to find times that Elijah was visiting to flaunt his access, or it felt like that often enough. Honestly, it almost felt as if Irvine was checking up on Elijah, but Nida had no clue why the gunner would do that.

“Irvine, what brings you here so early in the morning?” Nida asked, moving past the gunner to head for the closet where Nida stored his weapons.

“Early? It's almost seven. We're leaving in an hour,” Irvine pointed out. “I've also been waiting for almost half an hour. I hadn't expected you to be up so early.”

“Elijah wanted to do some sparring,” Nida called from the closet as he leaned the plain bo up in a corner and started to change into more casual clothes. “I thought it was earlier, though, otherwise I already would have been back here.”

“Well, we did have to do warm-ups, the ten minutes where you do that stupid meditation, and then the last bit... Travel time, showeres... Yeah, we easily blew an hour or so with all of that,” Nida heard Elijah say from the main room, and Nida couldn't help but grimace at the self-satisfied tone Elijah took. Even without seeing him Nida could tell that Elijah felt in no way guilty for stealing part of the other hour they had been awake for other sorts of exercise, if you wanted to call it that.

“Oh, makes sense,” Nida said as he pulled on a clean shirt. “So, what can I do for you now, Irvine?”

“I want to borrow one of your weapons.”

“For the honor guard? Aren't you taking Exeter?”

“Of course,” Irvine said, and Nida chuckled at the offended sound of the gunner's voice even as he ran his fingers over his weapons, trying to figure out which he would take in Irvine's place. “She'd hate me if I left her alone for a whole weekend. But I need something that looks good for an honor guard. Not everyone keeps things as hideous as Elijah's sword around after all.”

Nida wasn't sure which thought disturbed him more, the way Irvine insisted that his highly phallic weapon was female, or the near malice in his tone when he mentioned Elijah's weapon. While Nida himself wasn't quite fond of the coloring of Elijah's Rupio, he could not understand the sheer dislike Irvine showed towards the weapon with a single sentence. Still, having said it, Nida knew he'd have to intervene quickly before Elijah gave Irvine a more intimate introduction to the weapon for the insult.

At last Nida's fingers brushed over the perfect show weapon, and smiled as he pulled it from its place. While Nida wouldn't have necessarily chosen the same thing for himself it was likely the best bet for Irvine, just in case actual combat was needed. Irvine was yet to start into bladed polearms, and Nida hardly wanted to give him a glaive or partisan if he wasn't ready to really use it. This, though, was perfect, almost as good as the intricately decorated halberd that Nida used for dress occasions.

When Nida returned to the main room and held out the quarterstaff he smiled at the marvel in Irvine's eyes. Though it was hardly what Nida would use himself, being too short for some of the combat techniques Nida preferred, it was one of his most prized possessions.

“It's beautiful,” Irvine gasped as Nida held the polished ash pole out, the light from a nearby lamp catchign on a hawk carved near the steel-capped tip.

“Should be,” Elijah grumbled, “Nida had that commissioned back in Winhill from a master carver with his first pay. Dammit, Nida, don't let this dumbass borrow that beauty.”

Nida ignored Elijah's comment and forced the weapon into Irvine's hands. “When you're good enough, we'll see to getting you something like this. To honor the work you've put into learning a second weapon. Most people don't take their secondary very seriously.”

“And if he damages it?”

“If, by some rare possibility, there is fighting,” Nida said calmly, not even looking at the red-head, “this weapon would come only into use at close quarters. It is for worst case scenarios only. So, if you're so worried about a replaceable piece of wood rather than the life of your comrade, then keep Irvine for needing to use it if there is a problem. You're good enough with Rupio for that, aren't you?”

Both Irvine and Elijah frowned at that, but Nida just smiled and waved the pair towards the door. “I need a shower again after all of that fighting, and you two probably have some last minute packing to do. So get the hell out of my room, okay?”

Irvine was quick to obey Nida's command, something Nida had spent the first day of their training together teaching Irvine, but Elijah—ever a trouble-maker—lingered.

“What could you possibly want after such a blatant get the hell out of here?” Nida demanded.

“By sending him with that weapon it's almost like you're sending him as your own representative to this thing.”

With no further explanation Elijah turned on his heels and strode out of the room. For a moment Nida stood there, trying to shake off the sudden and unexplainable feeling of regret that flooded through him. At last Nida shook the feeling to get to his own, albeit secret, packing. There would be time on the trip to contemplate the odd feelings he'd been having lately and take a nap to calm his stomach.


	5. Chapter 4

Nida knelt in the middle of a smoke filled room, his eyes darting around at the eight chairs that encircled him. Seated in all but two was a person clad in a robe of a different color. They were of thin cotton, something Nida was sure of because he too wore one, his pale blue. Before him a man was standing clad in a white robe, his arms raised in what seemed to be supplication to Hyne. Another man clad in red stood behind Nida to his right, a hand resting upon Nida's shoulder.

The touch made Nida look up, seeking the face obscured by the shadows cast by the red hood. The shadows and smoke conspired to make it too hard to see the person, but Nida could easily see the brilliance of the blue eyes of the man. There was something familiar in the light in those eyes, the weight of the hand on his shoulder, something sickeningly familiar.

“'Lijah?” Nida found himself saying.

“Yes, Great One?”

Suddenly the weight on his shoulder was too much, too confining, and Nida desperately wanted to be free. His whole body screamed to run, flee, fight, do anything not to be here among the ring of people. Before he could think his hand was coming up to grasp the red-clad man's wrist.

“Ow!”

The sound shocked Nida awake, his whole body growing tense as his eyes darted around to find the source of the noise and any possible threat. It took almost no time, though, to realize what had happened. One of the other men on the small boat had touched Nida's shoulder to awaken him, and Nida's years of training had him acting before he had awoken, acting against the real and dreamt contact by digging his fingers into the wrist of the man who had tried to awaken him. The twisting was likely what had caused the noise, and quickly Nida released the man. Instead of slipping into the normal lecture about caution around SeeDs, and gave a the man as good of a sheepish grin as he could feign. Telling them would give them too much information that could be spread about Nida's presence in Winhill. The last thing Nida needed was two sailors, who were transporting Nida and a small boatload of cargo meant to be delivered to Winhill since the ship itself was far too large for the shallows, to know that a SeeD was in the area. Sailors talked, and Nida wanted to have his arrival quiet.

“Sorry,” Nida said, “I nodded off into a bad dream.”

“Whatever,” the sailor hissed. “We're about a minute out from the docks. I figured you would want to know.”

And, probably, expected to get a tip for it. With a sigh Nida pulled out a few gil bills and handed them to the man.

“Make sure your companion gets his part. I wouldn't want him to think I shorted him,” Nida said, pitching his voice just high enough to make sure that the man at the till heard him. All the better to make sure that the one Nida had handed the gil over to would indeed share.

The man nodded and retreated further back on the flat-bottomed boat while Nida got his pack and weapons together. Given a choice Nida wouldn't have gone on a low-profile mission like this with weapons that were obvious like his metal training bo and tambos. Yet since Nida had always brought weapons to Winhill, it would create more noise in town not to have them with him. After all, Nida tended to bring weapons so he could spend some time clearing out monsters near the village. With this supposed to look like a standard visit home, bringing the weapons became necessary.

Once they were within a few feet of the dock, Nida rose and leapt lightly from the boat, called a thanks over his shoulder, and strode across the wood towards the shore. Despite all of his years of residence in the Balamb area and all of the boat rides to and from Winhill, Nida had never been fond of the ocean, or any large bodies of water really. That added with the fact that it was nearly one in the morning local time made Nida ache for his long missed home and the comfort of a real, non-issue bed.

Even this late at night on the moonless night the walk along the stone and wood path the scaled the cliffs into the Winhill proper area, was an easy thing for Nida. Visitors might have hesitated on a night like this, with the only additional light being the dim bit of light that filtered over from the flat-bottomed cargo boat. Nida, though, had played on the cliff stairs since he was young, being one of the residents not of the main part of the village, but of the valley at the base of the short cliff.

It was called the 'valley of flowers' by the residents, and rightly so, Nida noted as he looked down into the valley he had called home from his place on the path atop the cliffs. This was a place few visitors to Winhill came or were welcome. There was a series of cottages that were as full of the perfume of flowers now in the summer as it would be in the spring. It was in one of those cottages that a women named Daphne Nomura had taken in and raised a young orphan to the best of her ability for the last years leading up to her death. Nida could see the cottage from here, and the sight almost brought tears to his eyes. Once he had come here every year. Now this was his first time in town since the last Sorceress War. How he had missed the place, the only one he felt could call home.

At last Nida started down the cliff, intent upon a quiet night before heading into the town proper to start his search. The inn would already be closed at this time, and chances were that Almasy might be there, so Nida had planned his trip around staying in a quieter location: the cottage Daphne had left him so long ago. The trip to the cottage from the top of the cliffs was almost a thirty minute walk along narrow paths cut into the stone, and the winding paths in the valley itself. By the time Nida reached the door, he was exhausted. Once inside the dark building he tossed his pack into a nearly chair and leaned his bo against the wall by the door. There would be no need for it here, and the only reason the tambo were left with him was because training alone would not let Nida leave himself unarmed, even in the safety of his own home.

One the way to the master bedroom Nida began to shed his clothes, comforting himself with the idea that tidying up could happen in the morning. Luck alone had the shirt fully off of him when Nida pushed the bedroom door open. Had he not, Nida either would not have heard the sound of a blade slicing through the air towards his neck, or he wouldn't have been able to free his arms fast enough to grab the tambos at his side and put up a defense. Nida had only enough time to grab the tambos and raise them in defense.

The blow landed heavily, straight on despite Nida's attempt to redirect the attack away. Sparks sprung from the contact of metal on metal, blinding in their momentary brightness. With his eyes stinging and his arms complaining from the weight pressing down on the guard offered by the two tambo, Nida could do little more than wait for his attacker to pull back just the littlest bit before Nida could move. Once the chance came, though, Nida found himself ducking into a roll that carried him further into the room, but away from the weapon, his only thought upon taking out the home invader.

Coming out of the roll, Nida raised the two tambo again, once more barely blocking an attack seconds before it would have cleaved his head in two. The next blow didn't even get Nida time to fully gain his feet before he had to stumble back a step, bumping into the dresser. There was the sound of rocking for a moment before something toppled forward, followed shortly by the sound of shattering glass. It only took a second for Nida to figure out what had likely fallen. That realization drew a curse. The only thing that had glass on the whole of the dresser was a picture frame, the only one in the house, and it had held one of only two pictures of Daphne. The last picture Nida had of the two of them together, and likely damaged now by the broken glass.

“You're going to pay for that!” Nida snarled before lunging forward to attack, his slowly adjusting eyes guiding blow after blow from the paired tambo towards the person's head.

Each blow came faster than the next, fury lending speed, and for a moment angry giving a sort of clarity that Nida had never before experienced. Yet all of it seemed to be for nothing, as each strike met the metal, sending even more sparks into the air, blinding Nida for heartbeats at a time. It took all of five meetings of the weapons for Nida to realize that not only was he fighting someone highly skilled, but someone on a level Nida had never faced before, someone above the level of even the three SeeDs Nida had taken to sparring with. Not only was the person keeping up with all of Nida's attacks, and blocking every last one, but each block was faster than Nida expected, reaching out just far enough that it was Nida, not the other person, who was using all of their energy. All of that, mixed with the colorful curse that came as Nida managed to direct sparks towards the attacker's eyes, confirmed Nida's fears of who he was fighting.

“Almasy,” Nida gasped out, his hesitation causing him to hold back just a little on the next strike. That cost him dearly as the man took the chance to reclaim the offensive, pushing Nida back two steps before Nida regained the pace of the battle.

“What's it to you?” the voice, definitely Seifer's, growled.

The voice did what Nida's eyes were still not quite able to do, confirming Seifer's identity. Here he was, then, in the middle of what was once Daphne's room, fighting one of the best gunbladers, no, fighters, in the world. More shocking than that was the fact that Nida was somehow, just barely, keeping himself from injury.

“My name is Nida Nomura. I was sent to follow rumors about you.”

“I figured that out when I didn't kill you with the first blow,” Seifer responded, not letting up for a second on the attack, forcing Nida to dodge another attack. “That and your home invasion earned you this warm welcome.”

Home invasion? What in the...?

Nida shook the thought off and as he dodged another blow he reached out to the GF that Squall had sanctioned for the mission, gathering up the proper magic, and releasing a stop spell. The magic took Seifer as he was moving forward to attack, and the momentum was more than the spell could handle, and carried Seifer forward, rigid, to crash into Nida. Luckily the other man's gunblade had been held just enough out to his side for Nida to dodge the edge of the blade as he was knocked to the floor.

With a grunt Nida pushed the frozen Seifer off of him, and quickly removed the gunblade from Seifer's now loosened grip. The thing, Hyperion if Nida remembered correctly, was far lighter than Nida had expected, something that Nida could almost handle single handed like the swords Elijah trained him with. Still, Nida grimaced at the black gunblade and moved to lay it on the now bare dresser top. Then, with a sigh Nida set about the task of shifting Seifer from the floor to the bed, an action that was met with many barely mumbled curses. That done Nida turned back to the dresser with a sigh, looking at the shattered glass on the floor.

“I'm not here to fight, Almasy,” Nida sighed before tossing his tambo into a nearby chair and releasing the stop spell. Still, Nida kept his back turned, hoping that would be enough to prove his point even as he knelt by the fallen picture frame.

“What's this? SeeD now train maids instead of fighters?”

Nida paused for a moment before starting to pick up the pieces of glass and depositing the whole lot on the dresser beside the gunblade.

“I want to make sure the picture isn't hurt.”

“It's just a picture of some woman and her kid.”

“It's all I have left of Daphne.”

“Daphne?”

“My mother. This is her home. No, was. It's mine now.”

There was silence for a moment before Seifer spoke again, and Nida could hear the mocking edge in his voice. “Well that explains how you found me so quickly. Didn't expect SeeD to be so competent. And the natives here don't give up information very easily. Took me almost a week to find out this place was empty. You're a native then?”

“Relatively,” Nida admitted, looking at the picture one last time before turning to stare down Seifer. “Adopted.”

The blond nodded and readjusted himself on the bed. It was only then that Nida noticed that Seifer was wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers, and seemed in no way disturbed by this. Nida found himself unable to do anything but to make for the door and where he had dropped his shirt in the hall.

“Who'd have thought that the fucking fly-boy would be the one people were talking about when they said 'our SeeD' around here. Elijah's little buddy and trainee ends up being hero in someone's eyes. What is the world coming to?”

Nida frowned as he pulled on his shirt, and the importance of what Seifer said didn't strike him until he was back in the room, head and arms already through the shirt but yet to pull it on all the way. How had Seifer known that he was training with Elijah?

Seifer smirked, obviously reading something in Nida's expression. “It wasn't hard to guess that he was training you, considering how much time you spent with the ass. After all, I can't think of any other reason you'd hang around with the bloody idiot.”

“He's friendly, unlike some people,” Nida pointed out, but he did note the words that Seifer used. Apparently Squall hadn't been wrong about the bad feelings between Seifer and Elijah. But that wasn't the important thing right now. What mattered was dealing with Seifer being right here, right now. Did this mean that Nida should report to Squall now? Would Squall even appreciate it? Nida had heard he was far from kind when awoken early.

“He isn't fond of you either.”

Seifer smiled and stretched out to take up as much of the bed as he could manage, which was an almost impressive amount, though the smiley-face boxers made him look anything but intimidating or impressive.

“So, what brings you here, other than seeking to bask in my glory.”

Nida rolled his eyes. “I can't imagine anyone would want to bask anywhere near you, much less in your supposed 'glory.' SeeD has been searching for you ever since your departure from Balamb. No one really likes the idea of lacking a tab on the Sorceress Knight and...”

“Former,” Seifer cut in. “I don't have a Sorceress I'm tied to any more, not since Ultimecia's destruction.”

“What does it matter?” Nida said, annoyed at the interruption. The question earned a startling response. Before Nida could say another word, or even blink, Seifer was upright, one hand closing around Nida's neck and starting to apply the lightest pressure. What was more, there was a fire in the man's green eyes that sent a shiver of true fear down Nida's spine.

“It's real important. Means I've still got most of the power, but no leash. No one to tell me not to kill the little bugs that bother me because it isn't worth my time. Got it?”

“Got it,” Nida agreed, and the pressure of the hand was instantly gone.

He did get it too, that it was more than what Seifer was saying. There was the implication there that brought to mind the most recent smoke dream. It wasn't about Seifer's control of himself, but the control the Sorceresses had over him. Seifer had always been independent, fiercely so. Bowing to the Sorceress's will must have been difficult for Seifer, even if it came with the promise of power.

“Good,” Seifer said, backing away to sit once more on the edge of the bed. “Now, what was that about tabs?”

“People want them on you,” Nida said, raising his hand to rub at his throat. “And I can't blame them. When rumors arrived in Balamb about a scarred man in Winhill, he gave me the task of seeking more information.”

“That's it? Information. This is recon only?”

Nida nodded.

“Fly-boy becomes the new messenger, huh? Somehow I have a problem believing that. Why the hell would you bring weapons on a recon mission? Besides, better to send someone a bit more conscious of his surroundings than you were.”

“I hardly expected to find you in my home,” Nida pointed out. “As for the weapons, I always bring something home with me, spend a few days dealing with monsters outside of the village. The villagers would be more suspicious of me if I didn't. There would be less rumors that way, only word of 'Daphne's boy' visiting.”

That only earned a shrug from the blond man. “I guess. But let's be honest, even if you did manage to survive all of that, there is no chance I'm going to let you bring me back to Garden with you. Without the princess himself and maybe two of his little elites there is no way you're taking me prisoner.”

“Good thing those aren't my orders,” Nida said, resisting the urge to point out that he was rather close to elite class himself.

It was a pleasure to see the Seifer's emerald eyes go wide in shock, but the pleasure did not last long, turning into an untrusting glare.

“Bullshit. Why the hell would Squall send you if not to bring me back?”

“Like I said, to find the truth to the rumors.”

“And nothing more?”

For a moment Nida closed his eyes, his mind shuffling quickly through all of his meetings with Squall regarding this mission. Sure enough he found nothing more specific than a recon mission. There was, though, something Nida was willing to guess at.

“Maybe to remind you that Garden is still there.”

“To what? Watch over the big bad Sorceress Knight?”

“No,” Nida said, thinking back on the silence that he'd met with so often from Squall when he asked for something, anything more specific. “I mean, yes, people want us to do that, but I think there was more to it than that. And while I don't know what it is, I think you do. From what Irvine tells me of the early days of the Orphanage Gang, you always knew how to read what Squall wasn't saying. There's more behind my presence, isn't there?”

Seifer said nothing, but the scowl was enough for Nida to know he'd hit close to whatever truth there was in this. There was also something that said he wasn't getting the answer from Seifer anyway.

“Orphange Gang? What the hell?” Seifer said at last, turning his gaze away from Nida.

“It's what Selphie calls you all. The six of you that were in the Kramers' care.”

“And you know about that? Does the whole fucking world know about that shit? You'd think our childhoods were just gossip fodder.”

“Hardly,” Nida said, moving to sit on the edge of the seat where he had lain his tambo. “People tend to look at Selphie in confusion when she says that, except for the other four and Xu. Most of what I know comes from Irvine though, the little bits he decides to share. I think he does it just so someone else knows without forcing him to remember everything for them.”

That drew a small nod from Seifer. “Part of the reason I want nothing to do with this 'Orphanage Gang.' Last thing I want is my head picked for their damn memories. Not that you'd understand.”

“I understand their point of view,” Nida admitted. “I'd give anything to remember what it was like when I was that age. The GF use, there's been studies into it since the war, and it's looking like the fears might be well founded. Most of us don't junction unless it's absolutely necessary now. It doesn't recover what we've lost though. I can barely remember Daphne at this point and I lived with her for about six years or so. And I don't remember the slightest thing about my real parents, where I come from.... Hyne only knows if 'Nida' is my real name. If I could find someone who knew my past, I think I'd do the same thing Selphie is.”

Seifer shrugged. “Some things are meant to be forgotten.”

“And some of it is stolen when it should be treasurered,” Nida countered.

“You know, you'd be a real threat to security if someone ever captured you. It's almost amazing how much information I've gotten from you in these last few minutes.”

“Information freely shared,” Nida dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Something tells me there isn't really threat in telling you any of this.”

“Are you saying I'm not a threat?”

“No. You're a threat. To my patience, my sanity, and above all my life. But I don't know about Garden.”

“I've almost taken down a Garden before.”

“Not one Squall all but ran for a year, and I don't think you're about to stage any massive strikes on Garden based on childhood memories.”

“True enough,” Seifer said with a smirk, though it faded as Seifer started to yawn.

“So,” Seifer said as soon as he stifled a second yawn, “as much fun as I'm having right now, I'm done with all of this. No offense, but it's late and you interrupted my beauty sleep.”

“I'm obviously not the only one,” Nida mumbled, and it drew a smirk from the blond.

"Almost funny there, Nidulus,” Seifer half-chuckled and Nida cringed at the nickname the other man had bestowed upon him almost three years before when Nida had first started to realize his interest in flight. Seifer, accusing Nida of having his head in the clouds, had decided that Nida needed a name that reflected it, and thus Nidulus. “But I'm going to sleep. And you look a little bit frazzled. Maybe you should too.”

“Do you really expect me to just close my eyes and let you sneak off in the night?” Nida asked. “Especially after using my home as your hideout?”

“Your home?”

“Daphne left it to me in her will. But that isn't the point...”

Seifer shrugged. “Fine, if you want to yap more, leave it for morning. If it makes you feel better having me stick around until dawn, so the Ice Princess doesn't have your head for letting me go, though I admit I think you could handle him if you expected it considering you put up with me when it wasn't... Well, I'll give you my word that I won't run.”

“I'm not sure I can put faith in your word.”

That actually drew a genuinely offended look from Seifer. “Really? I'm hurt. Fine then, do whatever you want to make sure I won't go, or not without your knowledge. Set trip wires, tie me to the bed, whatever floats your little boat.”

Nida rolled his eyes. “Only you would make that kind of joke out of this.”

“Someone sure needs laid,” Seifer chuckled before stretching out on the bed. “But suit yourself however you see fit. I assume you know where the other bedroom is if you need it. Bed's a bit small though...”

“I know that. I was a lot shorter when I was ten. I stay in here when I'm in town.”

There was no witty remarks, no biting comebacks, nothing but silence as Seifer apparently thought. Eventually, though, the blond sighed and shifted so that he was resting on the far side of the bed, facing the nearby wall.

“I warn you that I might cuddle in my sleep.”

Nida stared for a moment, unsure just what was being suggested, before it clicked. Nor was a pleasant click, the very idea of sharing a bed with Seifer was far from Nida's favorite. Sure, he had a body that anyone, especially a guy with Nida's background could appreciate, but the very idea of being so close to the man made Nida shudder. Still, there was little other choice than the couch or the floor. The first did nothing to allow Nida to make sure Seifer didn't slip out through the back, and the second was too painful after not one, but two long boat ridies for Nida to be even the slightest bit tempted.

So, with an aggrieved sigh Nida found himself finishing his earlier stripping down to his boxers, though this time he left his shirt on. With that done Nida carefully folded what clothes were in the room and put them on the corner chair before moving to lay down on the very edge of the bed, as far from Seifer as possible.

“Cuddle at your own risk,” Nida sighed as he closed his eyes, blocking out the little bit of starlight that had been the only real light in the room. “I'm apparently all elbows.”

“Aw, Nidulus, I'm hurt.”

“You will be if you call me Nidulus again,” Nida promised as he rolled onto his side, facing away from Seifer.

The last thing Nida made out was a chuckle from Seifer before he slipped into sleep.

 

* * * * *

 

Eight people stood together in a room, their faces all hidden by the shadows of the room and the hoods that obscured their faces well enough without the dimness of the lights. Each one, Nida knew, wore a robe of a different color without even needing to look. Instead he turned his attention to where the attention of most of those present was focused: upon the man in white. How Nida knew that it was a man, he could not say, but Nida was as certain of that as he was that his eyes were brown.

_It comes, brothers and sisters, the time of the heir. He has been found, and amid what might be the greatest of the corruptions that walk the planet: those who would bend the power of the sacred guardians to their wills. But we shall liberate him, and in his benevolence and true to prophecy he shall guide us to the glory that our people have long sought._

The words sent the worst kind of shiver down Nida's back, but still he listened, drawn maybe by the clarity of it all. No smoke and fog ruled this place, and while there was muffling to the voices of the other seven, Nida could clearly hear the man in white, his voice gruff but victorious.

As Nida watched the attention of those assembled turned their attention to the one in red, and nodded or shook their heads at whatever their heard. A disagreement then, but over what he could not tell, distant as he seemed to be from the scene. It was like a pane of glass stood between him and the others, one that blocked out all of the sounds, save from the words that came from a microphone secreted on the white clad man.

_It is time_ .

The words were a burning terror in Nida's mind.

 

* * * * *

 

Waking without an alarm to help was a slow process. Between the little sleep he'd had in the last few days, the late hours he'd kept recently, and the comfortable warmth at his back, there was little urge for Nida to awaken. A small part of his mind said that he should haul himself from bed, that that heat shouldn't be there, but Nida ignored it, too content to care. Instead he just reveled in the warmth at his back and the strong arm around his waist, letting his body relax back towards sleep.

“You know, I'm flattered, but I think that it is about time to wake up.”

The voice didn't sound quite right, just too deep for Elijah's normal gruff morning voice, but Nida shook it off.

“Don't wanna get up. Too early. Go back to sleep, 'Lijah.”

“Figured he was getting something out of you,” the gruff voice chuckled at Nida's ear.

For a moment Nida tried to process the amusement, as well as what he meant. It took a whole three seconds for it all to click and for Nida, wide-eyed and awake, to pull away from Seifer, only to fall out of the bed in the process. Seifer, of course, started laughing.

“Just so you know, that was priceless.”

“Shove it,” Nida growled from the floor, glaring up at the blond looking down on him from the edge of the bed.

“Don't need to. You fell all on your own.”

“Fuck you, Almasy.”

“Sorry, I don't even begin to swing that way.”

“Would you just shut up already?” Nida growled as he stood.

Seifer moved to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, smirking the whole while. “So, you're not going to deny it?”

“Deny what?”

“That you are sleeping with Elijah.”

Nida sighed and looked away. It was too late to say no now. “Is that a problem?”

Surprisingly all Seifer did was shrug. “No. Not surprised though. Always struck me as the kind of guy to use the younger students...”

“You're wrong,” Nida snapped, whirling on the blond. “You know, I've heard that you don't get along with him, but just because you and Irvine have a problem with him doesn't mean you can insult him just for shits and giggles.”

Seifer held his hands in front of himself, eyes slightly widened, maybe from shock. “Woah, relax. Don't need you going for my throat, fly-boy. After last night I might actually worry.”

There was a bit of sarcasm, though, and Nida just shook his head, straightening his shirt.

“You've gotten better,” Seifer said as he rose from the bed, moving to the dresser and pulling a pair of pants out of the dresser Nida usually filled with his possessions when he was in town. “Just how senior of a SeeD did they send for me?”

“Twenty-eight,” Nida said, though he felt no pride in it as he stood here before Seifer. The blond obviously deserved it more than Nida did himself.

“Really? Well, you've sure come a long way. And Ice Princess really is serious, to be sending out a big gun.”

“When isn't he serious?” Nida mumbled under his breath, before stopping at the door to look back at Seifer. “I'm going to clean up a bit and have some rations before I get in contact with Squall. If you're going to disappear, do it now.”

“Rations? Really? Squall must hate you to send you here, alone, to find me and with only glorified cardboard for food. If you'll put off the shower, I'll cook something up.”

Nida stared for a moment, shocked.

“What?”

“I said I'll cook.”

It was a kind thing for Seifer to suggest, but Nida had heard rumors around the Garden about Seifer's 'cooking.' The gunblader had once taken a cooking class—a secondary course to the basic requirements for all SeeDs so they could feed themselves on missions and hide basic poisons—on a bet. Apparently Seifer had discovered a way to work sleeping and paralysis powders into backed goods without sacrificing either potency or taste. Honestly, the underclassmen should have known better than to trust a Seifer bearing cookies. Yet, for all of that, Nida couldn't figure out  _why_ Seifer was offering. 

“Why?”

“Consider it pay back for staying in your house and almost killing you and all.”

“And how can I be sure you aren't planning something?”

“That story still getting around Garden?” Seifer chuckled. “First of all, what would I gain by it? Second, you can watch the whole thing if you want, and I'll even eat first.”

Ultimately, given the choice between his rations and the risk of letting Seifer escape, Nida was more than willing to risk Squall's wrath this time around. The underclassmen had said, after all, that the cookies had been more than worth the sleeping powder.

“Fine. I'll trust you. I don't know why, but I'll trust you.”

 

* * * * *

 

By the time Seifer called Nida down to breakfast, Nida had managed to clean up the minor mess he'd made the night before, and even grabbed a shower. After about three minutes of watching Seifer work on pancakes, bacon, and was preparing to make eggs, Nida had given in to the urge to tidy up. The shower, no matter how short, had been a true pleasure, giving Nida a chance to wash the salt from his body. At last Nida sat down at the table, just as Seifer was bringing a pot of coffee to the table, and placing some mugs beside it. In silence the two started into their meal.

“Nice place you have here,” Seifer said after sipping at his coffee, black as Nida would have guessed.

“Daphne had more than a few years to make it comfortable before I came along. All I've really had a chance to do was preserve the place.”

Seifer nodded and helped himself to more bacon. “I see why you were sent then. You'd blend in more easily than other SeeDs.”

“Exactly what Squall apparently thought when he heard you were in town apparently. Winhill isn't very favorable to outsiders, after all.”

“I noticed,” Seifer grumbled into his coffee. “Still, I think they'd make a big deal about a local coming back into town. They did when Ellone stopped in a few weeks ago.”

Nida raised an eyebrow at this piece of information. Apparently Seifer had been around longer than Squall had thought. Amazing that he'd been here so long without SeeD hearing about it.

“Don't be so surprised,” Seifer said. “They weren't really fond of the SeeD Squall had stationed here either. Around the fourth day of me camping out at the inn someone suggested that I stay here. Said the owner hadn't been around in a long time.”

“Not since the war,” Nida admitted. “Things have been... complicated at best.”

“Have to be for you to gain so many levels so fast.”

Nida shrugged. That was hardly something he wanted to discuss with Seifer.

“So, what do you really think Squall sent you here for?”

“I already told you,” Nida said, sipping at his coffee. “I don't know.”

“Then guess. Put all that training and all those fancy classes to use and tell me. You did, after all, take that class on enemy psychology, yes?”

How Seifer knew that, Nida didn't want to know, but he sighed. “Yes, but Squall is hardly an enemy.”

“Fine then, if you were on my side of things, how would you look at this?”

That gave Nida pause, and he wrapped his mind around it for a few moments before sighing. “Well, I'd think he recognized how talented you were. Unjunctioned you're better than anyone I've ever fought, and I've taken to sparring with Selphie, Quistis and Zell. That alone is a reason to try and tempt you towards the rank of SeeD. Whether you would take that or not, I don't know, but it is always possible. But more than that, I would think he wanted to protect you. A lot of people blame you for what happened back during the war, and now whenever something bad happens...”

“It's my name that comes up.”

Nida nodded.

“I can't blame them for it either,” Seifer admitted.

“I doubt Squall would think...”

“Who cares what he thinks?” Seifer asked, setting his mug of coffee aside, his green eyes hard. “Tell me, fly-boy, do you think I'm innocent?”

“Of what?”

“Any of what is laid at my feet.”

“Yes.”

Seifer shook his head. “Hardly. I'm no innocent, I'm a mercenary. Sure, maybe that bitch in Edea pushed me at first, but truth of the matter is that I didn't care enough to fight back. By the end I was more than happy to do anything she suggested because it meant power, recognition, glory. Maybe I was prodded, but it was my own desires I was pushed towards. There is nothing innocent about me. And I bet if you look closely enough at any of our so-called 'heroes,' you'll find the same is true of them.”

Seifer leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “The same is true of you as well I bet. None of us are angels. We're mercenaries. We kill for money. There is no redemption for us.”

To that Nida had no response. How could he respond after all? Here was Seifer, claiming full responsibility for... well, Nida wasn't quite sure what. There were rumors, there were always rumors, but Nida rarely took them seriously. As horrible as Seifer had been back in Garden, Nida had never felt that he was a truly horrible person—save for the day they had first met, and that feeling had long since passed. Something had always told Nida that there had been something forcing Seifer, something that drove him to do something uncharacteristic, because as cruel as Seifer could be, he was never that violent, that malicious. Right? But now Nida didn't know what to think, about Seifer or himself.

“Maybe you can only be redeemed if you reach for redemption,” Nida suggested, though there was little in his voice that hinted that he was confident in his words.

Seifer shook his head, reaching out to pick up his mug once more. “Somehow I doubt that. Now, finish up your damn breakfast. I don't make good food to let it go to waste. Then do whatever you need to do about Squall.”

Nida frowned down at his plate, at the few bites left, and sighed.

“I really should send him a report.”

The blonde rose from the table, taking his mug with him. “Well, let me know when you're done with that. Oh, and do the dishes. I cooked, you clean.”

“Where are you going?”

“Shower,” Seifer said. “Want to be all dolled up in case Squall sends the execution squad to bring me in.”

“He wouldn't do that, you know.”

“I know.”

The words almost sounded sad.


	6. Chapter 5

The lilies were beautiful, as they ever were, against the pale gray granite of the small stone set into the grass. It was the way that the white of the petals brought out the darker grains in the stone, the way they made the black inked into the carved words, made the whole thing all the more lovely. Daphne would have found the whole thing rather attractive, though Nida hated to think like that. It was a little too morbid to think of the woman who had been his mother looking down upon her own grave. Hyne knew that Nida hated to look upon it himself.

“So people really do this?”

Nida tried not to grit his teeth as Seifer spoke, breaking the reverend silence that always seemed to fill the air in this place. Normally the place was filled with only the sound of world around him, and Nida had always been thankful of that. Words always felt wrong here, at least they had to Nida.

“Really do what?” Nida asked, failing to do anything but grit his teeth in frustration.

“Leave flowers on graves. People really do that?”

“I don't know much about other people, but I have seen flowers on other graves here.

“Are they always white?”

“Usually, why do you ask?”

Seifer made a gesture—a wide, sweeping one that seemed to encompass the whole of the area that was used by the village of Winhill as a cemetary—and Nida quickly understood the question. Many of the graves had a bundle of white flowers, calla lilies if Nida remembered correctly, set before them. Nida had opted for true lilies as they were Daphne's favorites, but it seemed many other residents chose calla lilies.

“Calla lilies,” Nida said, standing from where he had knelt to place his own flowers. “They were developed here by a woman named Raine. It's said that no one grows them quite like she did. Anyone in the village will happily tell you that no one knew flowers quite like her.”

Seifer raised an eyebrow. “Really? Somehow I have trouble believing that. The flowers in that shop seemed to be rather good.”

Nida frowned, shocked that Seifer had even been paying attention in the flower shop. It had been one of the intended stops Nida had made in town, and with each stop Seifer had grown more and more impatient. Chances were that it had been because Nida had sent a coded message to Squall after breakfast about his encounter with Seifer. Apparently Seifer had expected a quick response or something, though Nida had explained that Squall was likely at the retirement celebrations, obligated to attend due to his rank. Propriety meant that Squall wouldn't be able to get free to receive and respond to the message until well into the evening. When Nida had announced that he was heading into town to deal with some business, Seifer had followed, as if waiting for Squall's response.

By the time they had gotten to the flower shop Nida had found himself forced to explain Seifer's presence more than once to people he had known since childhood, and who frowned at the pair in disapproval. An unexpected border, had been Nida's explanation, and most had taken that in stride, had politely accepted Nida's attempts to introduce Seifer to people as if he expected the blond to be remaining in Winhill for a long time, and didn't question Nida or Seifer about anything. Whether they had truly let up on their curiosity over the years, or they were just not willing to ask things of him now that he was a SeeD, Nida wasn't sure.

“Daphne used to tell me that the quality dropped off when Raine took over the pub. I wouldn't know though. Raine had died years before I came to Winhill.”

“And people still talk about her?”

“In a small town people always remember beloved friends, and scandals.”

That seemed to draw Seifer's attention, and Nida soon found the blond's green eyes directed at him.

“Scandal? How so?”

Nida sighed, realizing that now that he had even implied anything he would be bound to tell it to Seifer. The gunblader was far from the kind of person that would let things go.

“Raine fell in love with a man whose life she saved, and married him. Most people thought he was nice enough, but when Raine's adoptive daughter was kidnapped, he went to save the girl. The problem was that Raine was pregnant at the time, and apparently hadn't told him. He managed to find the girl, and sent her back to Winhill, but didn't return himself. Raine died giving birth to their son.”

“That's scandal all right. But who'd kidnap a girl from a town like this?”

“Sorceress Adel.”

Seifer blinked once, twice, and then frowned. “You mean Ellone? I knew she was from here but... And that would mean...”

Nida had to give Seifer credit, he was quicker on putting things together than most people would expect.

“Squall always called Ellone 'Sis,' but he did it long before the rest of us. They were already at the orphanage when I came there, and I was only about three when I was brought to Edea.”

“No one in Winhill could take both Ellone and Squall in, so Edea did from what I understand. In the end I think that Squall's father decided they were better off with Edea than they were with him.”

“Probably true if the idiot let Ellone get kidnapped in the first place.”

“Well, where he found her was apparently no safe place for her, and he got tied up there for a while.”

“And where in the world could that be? Esthar?”

“Where else would you expect Adel to take a girl with Ellone's talents?”

Seifer sighed and shook his head. “Next thing you know you're going to tell me that the inept man they call a President over there in Esthar is Squall's father or something.”

Nida couldn't help but laugh, and Seifer's dirty look lasted only a moment before understanding reached his face.

“Hyne. You're kidding me. Loire?”

“Few people know it really. President Loire and his friends, the Kramers, Squall... And all of Winhill of course. Not that most of them connect Laguna with Esthar. I knew about it before I even came to Garden.”

“And you never told the Ice Princess?”

“How could I? I didn't know Squall, didn't know that he had no clue who his parents were, and would have had no way to broach the topic even if I did. Can you imagine me walking up to an eleven year-old Squall and telling him that I'd heard lots of stories about his parents? And, over time, the fact all but slipped my mind. Chalk it up to age, distance, or GFs if you want to, but it never occurred to me until Squall's trip to Esthar found that Laguna was the President. At that point it became his father's responsibility to tell him, and that didn't come around until after the war.”

“No one here told him? I've heard that he's passed through once or twice...”

Nida shrugged. “Squall's a stranger here. No one knows him, and while they likely would have recognized the name, Squall probably didn't share it with anyone.”

“Still,I could have chosen a better place to hide out,” Seifer said after a moment. “Laguna or Squall could have visited at any time. The people here don't recognize me, but they would.”

“Hardly likely. Squall rarely comes here, and Laguna, from what I understand, focuses certain places. If you stayed in the valley, you would be fine.”

“And yet you found me anyway.”

Nida opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the tell-tale beeps in his pocket that indicated a message on his comm. He couldn't help but frown at this, because from his best estimate it should only be three or four in the afternoon in Trabia, far earlier than Squall should have been free of his obligations at the retirement celebration. In truth, Nida had not expected anything for at least another three hours, and that he expected to be a short conversation, not a coded message as the beeps indicated. Quickly Nida raised a hand to gesture for Seifer's silence even as the blond opened his mouth to question, and pulled the comm from his pocket. Without waiting for Seifer's compliance, Nida pressed his thumb against the screen to satisfy the first phase of the ID verification, then thumbed in his code.

A sense of dread filled him when, after the code was verified, the comm screen went black again, white words prompting Nida for his oral access key, to be followed by A level clearance ID, which Nida had never been asked for before but he knew involved a retinal scan.

Quickly, quietly enough so that the comm wouldn't read it of course, Nida cursed.

“Sigma sigma three seven mu zero alpha,” Nida rattled off and raised the comm to eye level for the retinal scan.

“Shit,” Seifer agreed as he watched Nida go through the whole thing. “What in the world...?”

Finally the comm made a confirmation beep, and Nida pulled the comm back to look at the coded message that flashed across the screen. The letters and numbers instantly decoded themselves in his head, but the message barely registered, almost too impossible to believe.

“Recall. Highest level authorization.”

“And when are they sending your retrieval?”

“They already have. Arrival in two hours by flier.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Specified recall of that,” Nida said, quickly thumbing in his coded confirmation before closing the comm. After a moment, though, Nida flipped it open and sighed as he punched in the number for the command center in Balamb.

“What now?”

“Quistis is going to have my head,” Nida mumbled as he put the comm to his ear. “Whatever is going on, she's going to be looking for me.”

“Why?”

“No one but Squall knows where I am or why.”

The comm rang for a few moments before Quistis's voice came through, borderline frantic.

“I swear to Hyne, Nida, I am quite close to recommending you for a court martial. Where in the world are you? I've called your room three times and I was about to send someone to your room to...”

“Quistis, let me explain,” Nida started to say, but her words rolled right over his.

“Who do you think you are, leaving Balamb without telling anyone where you were going? In fact, how dare you leave without...”

“Quiet mission,” Nida said, and sighed in relief as Quistis's words stopped abruptly.

“Who authorized?” Quistis asked, her voice obviously trying to stay calm.

“Squall. Now, what is going on? I have a recall order from Squall...”

“You don't know? Nida, where in the world are you if you don't know...?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss that at this time,” Nida responded with a sigh. “Please, just...”

“I can't quite explain it. You'll see when you return. I assume Squall sent orders for your retrieval.”

“Yes. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“Don't worry, Squall is obligated to remain in Trabia until evening. If you're lucky you'll get in at the same time as him.”

“And you can't tell me anything?”

“There was a video... aired worldwide in the middle of the retirement celebration. To put it simply, the message isn't exactly appreciated. Xu is currently attempting to head off the broadcast, but whoever did it managed to hack some major systems to get it aired. All senior SeeDs not on priority missions are being recalled. Squall has decided that those SeeDs acting as an honor guard will remain, though...”

“Which leaves us, Squall, Zell and one or two others?”

“Not quite. Most of the mid-twenty level SeeDs are out on longer contracts, and are unavailable at this time.”

“A crisis with only four people then?”

“We've faced worse.”

“I'll see you soon Quistis.”

With that Nida hung up and sighed before pocketing his comm. Seifer, surprisingly enough, didn't say anything, and had stood by silently through the whole conversation.”

“Well, I've got a bit of time. Maybe we should discuss payment...”

Seifer frowned, his face almost scrunching up in confusion. “Payment? For what?”

“Staying in my home.”

 

* * * * *

 

Two technicians rushed forward as Nida cut the power to the engines of the small flier and broke the seal on the cockpit. Soon enough the two were moving small stepladders to either side of the flier and moving to carefully lift back the glass as Nida removed his seat belts and the flight comm he had been wearing. Nida gave himself just a moment to catch his breath before hauling himself from his seat and onto the ladder. Seifer, ever impatient, placed a foot on the edge of the cockpit and then leapt to the ground. You could always count on Seifer to make a showy entrance.

“Where are we going?” Seifer demanded even as Nida pulled one of the techs aside and gave them orders to have someone transport the bags and weapons in the small storage area to the smaller meeting area next to the main conference room, where Nida and Seifer could pick them up later.

“Conference room on the basement level,” Nida responded, accepting a folder from the other technician.

“What basement level?”

Nida sighed and shook his head. There had been little time on the flight to deal with Seifer's questions, and Nida had only had to let the flier hit some rough turbulence once for Seifer to take the command for silence seriously. Nida had held back his urge to chuckle at finding that the tough blond was uncomfortable with flying, focusing instead on his work. While Nida had no doubt that he could fly the small two-man machine without much problem and still hold a conversation, he had always preferred to give the whole of his attention over to flying.

Granted this time he'd been unable to fully focus, thinking as he had about Seifer. On their way back to the cottage from the cemetery, Seifer had abruptly declared that he was going to join Nida in returning to Garden. No matter how Nida had pressed, the blond had given no reason beyond 'sounds fun,' and Nida had found himself trying to figure out just why Seifer was suddenly willing to return to Garden. Odder still, Seifer had not pushed for much information while they had been packing, and had taken what perishables were in the house over to a neighbor, a sure sign that he had least had no intention of returning any time soon. It had almost been as shocking of a decision to Nida as Seifer's presence had been to the pilot who had flown the flier to Winhill and had been left behind so that Seifer could be taken in his place. Nida had called in another flier to pick up the youth, but it would only be getting there in the next thirty minutes or so, leaving the boy stranded in a clearing outside of Winhill for hours.

“At about the time of the missle launch,” Nida said in answer to Seifer's question, “we discovered not only the MD levels where all of the machinery that makes Garden fly is, but a basement level inhabited by a Shumi elder named Norg. Turned out he financed Garden, and while we'd all seen his name in such an effect in the terminals, no one knew he lived in Garden. He attempted to take over the Garden by force during that time, and Squall, Zell and Rinoa had to... put him down to save their lives. He was going to give their heads to Edea, Cid's too. After the war the level was renovated, with special rooms for training in magic or private sparring for upper level combatants, as well as a new conference room for handling the new SeeD Council that Squall established. If we're meeting anywhere, it's there.”

In the time it took Nida to explain he had already strode from the landing area to the Garden proper, and was guiding Seifer through back hallways towards a staircase that would lead to the lower levels.

“Not taking the main elevator?” Seifer asked as Nida placed his hand against a hand scanner to unlock the stairwell door. No one was allowed into the lower levels without clearance or special permission.

“To be honest, I think it would be best to keep you out of as many eyes as possible right now,” Nida responded as he held open the door for the gunblader. “For all I know this might involve you in some way, or people might try to pin it on you. The last thing I want to be doing right now is trying to keep a student or SeeD from getting hurt because they assaulted you.”

“Well, at least you aren't going to claim that I would need protecting.”

“If we're lucky, you won't.”

The two flights of stairs passed quickly and soon enough Nida found himself pushing open the conference room door. Even as he stepped into the room and tossed his briefing folder to his spot at the table, he began to reach for Siren in his mind. The timing was almost perfect, the silence spell settling on Zell just as Seifer entered the room behind Nida and Zell leapt to his feet at the sight. The faint flash of light from the spell seemed to go unnoticed at first, but Nida could almost _feel_ the way the attention shifted from Seifer and Zell to himself when Zell rose his fists and opened his mouth to shout, only to find he had no voice. 

“I returned as quickly as possible, Sir,” Nida said as he saluted to Squall, acting as if nothing had happened. “As you can see, I managed to make contact with my target.”

Squall raised a slender brown eyebrow as if to ask whether Nida thought him blind or not.

“Due to the apparently urgency of the situation and lack of orders regarding what to do if I managed to convince him to return, I decided to bring him here...”

“This was your quiet op?” Quistis demanded from her place at Squall's side. “Why wasn't I told?”

“I did not feel it was necessary,” Squall answered. “Thank you Nida, you may sit. Zell, you too.”

Nida quickly moved to his seat, glad to be out of the intense scrutiny that Squall now turned on Seifer. The blond, though, seemed utterly indifferent to it, taking the chance to lean against the door frame, smirking that infuriating smirk of his.

“And me? And don't try to pull that kicking me out of here shit. No way I'm leaving when you've got all of this hush-hush going on. Unless, of course, you want to try to remove me yourself, Ice Princess.” Seifer said, at the same time sounding as if he could care less what happened now and yet amused at the idea of Squall trying to force him to do anything on his own.

For a moment Squall was quiet, then he closed his eyes and sigh. “Sit. You might be useful.”

It was Seifer's turn to raise an eyebrow, though his was more in puzzlement. “Now I'm reluctant. Things have got to be bad if you think I'll be anything other than a pain in your royal ass.”

Zell seemed to agree with the comment, the way he was punching at the air.

“Can someone do something about chicky? He's going to give himself a heart attack just from the joy of seeing me.”

At a gesture from Squall, Quistis pulled a vial of rosy fluid from an ever present medical pouch at her side and tossed it to Zell, who downed it eagerly. The effects were quick, and soon Zell was opening his mouth again to say something, only to be cut off by a sharp look from Squall, something that amused Seifer to no end.

“Nice to see you've got him on a leash these days.”

Nida rolled his eyes but barely paid any other mind to Seifer's comment, instead turning his attention towards Squall. “So, would someone care to fill me in about this broadcast Quistis mentioned on the comm?”

Instead of speaking Squall flipped a switch that was just under the edge of the table where he sat, and in response a screen rolled down from the ceiling on the other side of the room, leaving just enough space before the door to let someone slip in. Quickly it was filled with an image that Nida could do little more than flinch back from. On the screen were eight people in shadows, each in a differently colored robe. They were seated, still as statues, in a half-circle, save for a man in white, who was standing before the others, with all attention upon him. Memories of kneeling in the smoke, a white robed man before him, made Nida's stomach squirm.

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of the world,” the person in white spoke, his voice heavily distorted. “We are the Council of Eight, the leaders of the long forgotten tribe of the Zebalga. And today is a day of rejoicing the whole world over!"

“You're bringing us in for...” Seifer said from the seat he had taken beside Nida, only to be shushed as Nida kicked the back of his chair.

“For today,” the man continued, undisturbed by Seifer's words, “the prophecies come to pass. That which we have so long sought has been revealed to us. Yes, my brothers and sisters, we have discovered the truth of the guide, and soon we shall come to show the world the true glory of our people. Know now, all of you who would seek to defy us, that you will be put into your places. The age has come where you shall once more prosper under the kind and just rule of the Zelbagan kings of old, and war shall be unknown if you but accept us. Today is the day of our destinies, and soon all shall revel in our glory! Rise up, my brothers and sisters, rise up and look upon the future!”

Then there was silence, though the voice still echoed in Nida's head. How could it not, when the words were so like those he had known in his dreams? If they were ever able to clear up the distortion, Nida was sure that the voice would sound the same as the one in his dream. It was ridiculous, but he was certain of it.

“Yeah, I saw this too,” Zell said, rolling his eyes. “Ma kinda laughed at the whole thing. Ridiculous if you ask me. Seriously, why are we concerning ourselves with this? Is this really important enough to ruin my free weekend?”

“Other than the fact that no one knows how the broadcast system was hacked to release this message? And that the hacker was good enough to foil some of Xu's attempts to control it and keep it off of the international computer networks?” Quistis countered.

“These people are obviously setting themselves up as a force in the world, or want us to believe they are capable of such. Chances are this will either cause a fruitless panic or a legitimate problem we'll be called in to deal with,” Nida offered, trying to ignore the fact that the whole thing was too much like his dreams lately.

“And because the Zebalgans are one of the biggest batches of crazies that the world has ever known.”

That comment, as casually tossed out as it was, brought everyone's attention to Seifer.

“Do you know something about the Zebalgans?” Squall asked.

The blond smirked and leaned back in his chair, looking smug as all hell. “What? You don't recognize the name? It really is a good thing for you that I'm here then. Who would have thought the good guys had such bad information...”

“Seifer...”

Squall raised a hand as Zell made as if to raise, looking ready to jump over the table to punch Seifer. “Seifer, whatever you know would be very useful for us.”

“What's in it for me?”

“Not getting your head beat in,” Zell growled.

“Seifer, please.”

Seifer seemed shocked for a moment, the word 'please' coming from Squall and directed at him probably being something of a shock, but in the end he nodded and sat up straight again.

“I heard about them back when I was Edea's knight. One of the reasons that she didn't go after the Gardens before she revealed herself, taking advantage of surprise, was because she didn't consider SeeDs a threat apparently. At least, not like the Zebalgans. One of the first tasks she set me to was dealing with them as best I could. See, they don't much care for Sorceresses, or Daughters of Hyne as they call them. These cultic freaks like to believe that old story about Hyne's body and magic and all of that shit and claim descendency from the ancient Zebalgan King. Thus they view themselves as the rightful heirs to the power of Hyne. Problem is that they can't find the true power of the body of Hyne or something. They want to use that to rule the world, as you can clearly see.”

“So what is this guide they are speaking of? A book or something that would lead them to this power?” Quistis asked the question everyone probably had on their minds.

Here Seifer shrugged. “Got me there. Edea only told me what she knew, or felt like sharing. Ultimecia might have known more but she can't exactly share. All I know is that the full story and legends and all of that are only shared within the bloodline, and that is supposed to be scattered. Could be they have a book, a tablet, or anything.”

“The guide is a person,” Nida said, shocking himself with his words. He hadn't meant to say anything, but the words came out anyway, and they felt right.

“Why would you say that?” Squall asked.

Nida took a moment to scratch his head, trying to come up with a reason other than a gut feeling. At last he latched onto something, a memory of the story Elijah had recently told him.

“It's a person,” Nida said with more confidence. “The heir.”

“Heir? To what?” Zell asked.

“I'm not sure. The power of Hyne maybe?”

Nida could see Quistis reaching for her whip out of the corner of his eyes, probably thinking the worst for his seeming knowledge without reason. The fact that he had been away during the hacking probably hadn't helped, Nida being one of the other top hackers in Garden.

“Don't look at me like that. It's mentioned in the Legend of Vascaroon, isn't it? A children's tale. Hell, there is even a book with it in the library. Okay, maybe not that one, but it is in some variations of the story. In fact just recently I heard it from...”

Nida trailed off, frowning. Elijah had only recently told Nida the legend, and while Nida had tuned it out, he was sure he had heard something about an 'heir' in it. Yet that half remembered story along with his dream, the certainty that Elijah was the man in red... Nida shook his head.

“Who?”

“Elijah. He said it was his favorite story when he was young, but that people don't tell it right. He started telling me about it and I think he mentioned something about an heir. I don't know, I might have heard him wrong, I tuned most of it out. I was tired...”

“We'll ask him about it upon his return tomorrow. He might be able to give us more information, or at least a better idea of what we're looking for. Until then, Quistis, Zell, you already know what I need you to do. Nida, I would like you to try and figure out the source of this video. Xu was able to lock it down to a degree, but there wasn't enough time to track. If you turn up anything, report immediately. Upon her return, Xu will assist you. Keep your eyes on the networks, though, there is no telling whether there will be more videos, but if there are I want them stopped.”

Nida nodded, stood, and picked up his folder. “And you, sir?”

“I'll be dealing with our... guest,” Squall said, his eyes riveted on Seifer.

 

* * * * *

 

The next night found Nida collapsing into his bed, utterly exhausted despite the fact that he had spent almost all of the day in the same rolling chair. While Saturday hadn't been too bad, save for Zell's constant grumbling about Seifer, Sunday afternoon had found another video released, just before the return of those who had gone to Trabia. No matter how hard Nida had worked, though, he had been unable to fully suppress the video until Xu's return. Only working together had they been able to stop the looped broadcast, which had made barely veiled threats towards the Sorceresses Edea and Rinoa, as well as towards people like Ellone. The white clad man had even blatantly called out SeeD, and now some groups were questioning Balamb Garden about what they knew of the Zebalgans, much to Squall's annoyance. Nor that they could have given people much, with everything they knew based on what Seifer remembered, the scanty history in some old library books, and the Legend of Vascaroon in an old book of myths. Elijah hadn't been much help either.

Elijah on his own had almost created another fiasco, or so Nida had heard from Seifer—who was being referred to as a 'special advisor' regarding the matter. Apparently the second that the red-haired SeeD had left the Ragnarok, Squall had moved to meet him, pulling him away from the other senior SeeDs. The questions had not gone well, Elijah giving only clipped responses and claiming to know nothing about the Legend of Vascaroon when first questioned, and even when told that Nida himself had admitted to Elijah's telling it. Selphie and Irvine were put in charge of keeping Elijah under house arrest until Squall had time to question him more, mostly because of his lying than anything else. All Nida had heard about subsequent questioning was that Elijah was accusing Squall of persecuting him for knowing a myth, and that he hadn't wanted to get in trouble for hearing a non-standard version.

In all of that time Nida still hadn't had a chance to see Elijah, though that was more likely because of his work with Xu than because of any real suspicion towards Elijah or himself. Then again, Seifer could have told Squall about the relationship for all Nida knew, and Squall could have been contriving to keep them apart for other reasons.

With a sigh Nida rolled onto his side, turning his attention to getting to sleep, despite the last thirty minutes not having yielded much on that battle front. Maybe he just wasn't being honest with himself in the very struggle for sleep. Something in the air was just putting him on edge tonight.

The quiet sigh of the door of the suite sliding open caused Nida to hold his breath, to better hear what was going on as his hand slid under his pillow to grip the knife he always kept sheathed there. Nida stilled himself as he listened for whatever intruder there was, hoping he could tell where the person was in the suite. Yet they were quiet, too quiet for Nida to hazard even the slightest guess about where they were.

He wouldn't have been so concerned if it wasn't for this paranoia that was building up around Garden, and if the only other people who had easy access to Nida's room weren't the kind to sneak around when they came into another person's room. Irvine didn't show up at night, Squall would knock even if he used the general room override code, and Elijah was likely either still with Squall being questioned, or sleeping himself, likely under house arrest until Squall could make heads or tails of everything. With that in mind, Nida knew that chances were that someone who didn't belong here was sneaking in. So, unaware of who was coming, or where they were, Nida carefully gripped the knife, ready to pull it out.

“Nida,” Elijah's voice came suddenly from the darkness in the door that led into the rest of the suite. The very sound of his voice cause Nida's grip on the knife to fail.

“Nida, are you awake?”

“Elijah?” Nida asked, shocked.

“Good, you're awake.”

Soon Elijah was sitting on the edge of Nida's bed, and Nida sat up to look at the red-haired man in confusion.

“How did you get here?”

“Walked, punched in the code, kept silent just in case you were asleep,” Elijah chuckled before leaning in to kiss Nida. Nida pulled back, though, rejecting the kiss and frowning.

“I don't understand. Have you finished talking with Squall? Is everything cleared up?”

Elijah just smiled, his fingers tapping against the hilt of the sword that Nida hadn't noticed Elijah had brought with him until this point. Something about the presence of the sword, Rupio, was unnerving.

“Don't worry about it. I handled everything. Just some confusion. We're all good now.” With the words Elijah put his hand on Nida's shoulder, squeezing it, and Nida couldn't help but think about the smoke dream.

“So,” Elijah said, leaning in closer, “I hear you're the one we have to thank for the return of the blond bastard. You could have told me.”

“Quiet op,” Nida sighed, leaning away, restoring what distance there was between him and Elijah. “But you should have guessed. Who better to send to Winhill than the guy from there?”

“True enough. Where'd you find him?”

“My bedroom.”

“Should I be jealous?”

Nida shook his head. “Turns out he was staying in Daphne's house because no one was living there.”

“Amazing. I'm almost surprised he didn't try to take your head off.”

“He did,” Nida sighed. “Almost succeeded too.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “You'll have to tell me about it sometime. But right now, I believe you promised me something before I left.”

“What?” Nida asked, genuinely confused.

“Run away with me.”

Nida looked at Elijah, eyes wide and staring, utterly confused. When in the world had he promised to run away with Elijah?

“I can't. This whole situation right now...”

“Can be left to other people. Run away with me, Nida. Let's see the world, free of SeeD and orders and obligations. We could go now, take the Rag...”

“We have responsibilities, 'Lijah, we can't just run away from them.”

There was silence for a while before Elijah took his hand off of Nida's shoulder and sighed. Then, without warning, he started to talk again, his voice taking on that quality Nida was used to him using when Elijah told a story.

“I never finished telling you the Legend of Vascaroon, the way I learned it. Well, the King asked the wiseman Vascaroon how he would maintain peace if everyone thought that he was holding the power of Hyne only for himself. How could he make people believe that he wasn't tricking them? Vascaroon said that he must tell the people that they should seek the power of Hyne, but hold to peace, for only in peace could it be used. Then, when they found the god, they would be mighty enough to destroy him and take his magic as their own. But to the King alone he said that even if the god was found, the Zebalgans would not be able to unlock the magic on their own.

“Vascaroon had dreams you see, ones that old him the shape of the future, and they told him that his son would come to the Zebalgans one day to show them how to harness the magic of Hyne. And they would know his son, his heir, because of the dreams he would have, ones that would know the future as Vascaroon's did. What was more, he would be able to use magic, much like the women that Hyne had taken as his daughters, gifting them with magic in return for service in the fight against humans. The heir would come in a time of great struggle, guiding the peoples of the king. With that Vascaroon left, and the Zebalgan king waited. Upon his death he told the prophecy to his son, and that king told it to his son. The story was passed on down the lines, and yet Vascaroon's heir did not come, even though the Zebalgans faithfully sought both Hyne and the son that they might have the power to build a better world. It was a search that continued to this very day.”

“They believe this and think they've found this son?” Nida said, realizing that his suspicions had been correct. But why Elijah knew this...

“Exactly,” Elijah said with a big smile. “After all of this time the heir has finally come, and the Zebalgans have recognized him. At last, we've found you.”

_We've_ found you.

_We've_ found  _you._

Nida jerked away from Elijah, horrified. There was no misinterpreting those words, the fervent belief behind them. Elijah was counting himself among the Zebalgans, something that no one else here knew for sure if Elijah was out and about. No way in hell would Squall have left Elijah under anything but heavy guard if he had known it for sure. That either meant that Elijah had lied through his teeth all these years and to Squall, or that something had gone wrong, Elijah had been revealed, and he had escaped.

More unnerving than even that was the way that Elijah had said 'you.' There was a passion there, a fanaticism, that made Nida go cold. Whatever had put the idea of Nida being this heir into their minds, Elijah believed it without the faintest bit of doubt, had put himself into the hands of people that the Zebalgans had all but declared war against, and for what?

For Nida. That kind of fanaticism, and all directed at getting Nida so that he could find the power of Hyne. Would someone that driven let anything get between them and their goal for any real amount of time?

Nida's gaze moved to the sword that Elijah had set aside, having leaned it against the nearby nightstand. More than once Nida had thought that the color was the same shade as blood, which he had always been sure meant it would do an amazing job hiding blood on the blade. Sure enough, the blade looked wet. Nida always wanted to hit himself for missing the faint, tell-tale scent in the air.

“Hyne, Elijah... What have you done?”

“It's time to go, my lord,” Elijah said, standing and taking Nida's closest hand into his own. “We had better be quick or we will lose our chance. Boyce is waiting...”

“What have you done?” Nida repeated, unable to tear his eyes from the blood on the sword, or his hand from Elijah's as the bloody SeeD hauled Nida to his feet.

“What have you done?”


	7. Chapter 6

Alarms screamed, lights flashed, and Nida stumbled as he followed the tugging on his arm in a daze. Nothing around him felt, or even looked, real. It felt like his ears were filled with cotton, yet he could still hear the voices shouting whenever someone caught sight of Elijah as if the speakers were at his side. His tongue heavy like lead, even though he wanted desperately to shout. The whole of his head seemed to pound from the overwhelming scent of blood that hung in the air, the scent stronger around Elijah and his red blade. Every stumbling step grew worse as Nida's body shook more and more, his legs, arms, eyes all unresponsive to his will. Worst of all was his eyes, though.

His eyes almost felt as if they should have been clouded with too much smoke, but Nida could see everything clearly. Each scene was its own unique horror, something out of a movie, a bad hallucination, or just a nightmare. No matter how Nida willed it, though, there was no smoke or fog obscuring the edges of his vision, or the faces of the few cadets that Elijah had cut down with no mercy, or even the SeeDs who looked upon Nida with betrayal in their eyes as Elijah cut them down with his blood colored and stained sword. Their eyes lingered in his mind, accusing him, begging to know why he hadn't stopped Elijah, why they had to be hurt, had to die. Wasn't he a senior level SeeD? Didn't he have a responsibility to protect them when they could not protect themselves? Somehow the accusation in those eyes was always clear, always certain, even when Nida's world took on the watery quality that the world did when tears stung at eyes.

_It has to be a dream_ , Nida told himself as Elijah pulled him down a back hall, ducking into a small alcove to hide as another string of low level SeeDs ran past, one whispering into a comm to whoever was directing the search. 

If it wasn't a dream, how could Nida face the accusations in the eyes that plagued his mind. How else could he explain the fact that he was letting Elijah drag him around Balamb, or that he hadn't tried to stop Elijah from attacking anyone? What but a dream could explain his dead tongue, the horrible visions, the lack of action? Anything else was too horrible to consider. If it wasn't a dream, after all, then Nida would have to explain to himself just why he hadn't even struggled when Elijah pulled Nida from his room in the middle of the night, blood on the blade of Rupio.

Nida'd had the chance to stop Elijah, more than one, since they had left Nida's room. What would it have taken to step between Elijah and one of his victims, grab his sword arm to stop a blow, take an attack himself to protect someone? Nothing, less than nothing, and still Nida stood there, stupid. Instead Nida didn't even pull away from the too tight grip that Elijah had on his hand, and followed Elijah as if he were a lost puppy. Follow and watch, only watch, as Elijah's sword flashed out, pierced flesh, removed hands, cut across the backs of young SeeDs who had only just passed their exams and looked to Nida, pleading for help.

Then again, maybe it would have been arrogant for Nida to assume he could stop Elijah, because every movement the red-haired man made implied a level of skill that Elijah had never shown before. Even after sparring against Elijah for the last five or six years, Nida was shocked by what he saw. Their recent sparring session had not even prepared Nida for how Elijah fought now, one handed and as if there was no effort at all in killing for him. Every action was smooth, quick, almost like a master painter moving his brush, though the paint itself was blood. Something told Nida that even if he had his best weapon, even were he utterly calm of mind and hell bent upon killing Elijah, he would not have had a chance against the other SeeD. Nida had never been a true match for Elijah's speed in the first place, and Elijah was aiming now for one stroke kills rather than the debilitating blows Nida was used to from him.

So Nida stood there, as Elijah held him close to a wall, waiting for the young SeeDs to pass fully out of sight. Once they were Elijah pulled Nida back into the wall, placed a kiss on Nida's cheek and then continued to lead Nida through the narrow back hallways towards the entrance to the main hall. Towards the Zebalgans. Towards Boyce Megill.

At last Elijah pulled Nida into the main hall of the Garden, and the tugging on Nida's arm became more urgent, forcing him to either run or have his shoulder jerked out of it's socket. Quickly Nida could tell that his original suspicion that they were bound for the main entrance was wrong, and that Elijah was bound instead for the quad. It was an understandable choice, one Nida would have made in Elijah's place. If you wanted out of Garden quickly, despite followers, the quad was the best bet, compared to the main entrance which bottle necked in many places. When you considered that it was also halfway between the dorms and the main doors, it meant that you didn't have to run as far, and that you'd avoid the other two exits that would be covered, the main entrance and the garage.

Maybe it was that, luck, or just Elijah's planning that got them all but to the doors out to the quad without incident, but that string of luck failed once they were only a few yards from the door to the quad. Standing before them in the path was a mid-level SeeD, a girl that Nida had known only a few years less than Elijah, who he'd had countless classes with, and who had gained her SeeD status the year before Nida. Her name was Alana, and she was known to be the second best fighter in Garden when it came to pure blade work, surpassed only by Elijah, and Garden gossip suggested that she was probably better than Elijah when it came right down to it.

There was a look in her eyes, dark and murderous, that made Nida shudder to think that she had every intention of proving the rumors true tonight. It was hardly a good look for those eyes, normally so warm and brown, if a little too serious. Alana had always been nice to him, explaining perhaps the crush he'd had on her when he'd first come to Garden, though he had never had the guts to really talk to her. Yet there was nothing like mercy in her eyes tonight, no kindness. Not for Elijah, and not for Nida, who she looked up and down and then ignored, refusing to meet his eyes. Nida could hardly blame her. Right now, were he in front of his own reflection, Nida doubted he would want to see what it showed.

“I would have guessed it would come to this some day,” Alana said as she drew the plain, though obviously well tended, long sword at her side.

“I should have guessed you'd be out for my blood,” Elijah responded, his voice amused even as he shifted the grip on his sword the littlest bit. It was something Nida was used to seeing, if Alana wasn't, and it could only mean one thing: Elijah was looking forward to this.

“Someone needs to take it from you. When I heard you were under surveillance I decided to wait the night here. I always figured you'd slip up someday, Zale. I, for one, never fell for the whole lazy bastard routine. You've always been up to something, haven't you? You're one of these 'Zebalgans' who thinks they can just do whatever they want to, take over the world in the name of god.”

“Hardly in the name of god,” Elijah said, dropping Nida's hand so he could wag a finger at Alana. “Hyne proved himself unworthy of any homage. We would never do anything in his name.”

“Then you will die in it,” Alana said.

“I doubt it. Let's face it, Alana, you're only here because you could never stand how much better than you I was.”

“You were never better. I've seen you fight countless times. To be honest, it's amazing you managed to earn the rank you did,” the black-haired woman said, slipping into an attack stance. “I intend to prove to our instructors how foolish they were.”

“You've never really seen me fight. No one here had. But don't worry, I'll be sure to give you a brief glimpse before you die, Alana.”

“Don't fight him, Alana,” Nida croaked out, the leaden weight of his tongue suddenly gone, much to his surprise. “Please, he'll kill you.”

“Shut up, traitor,” Alana hissed, her voice cold enough to do Squall himself justice.

Nida took a step back, unable to meet the look of disgust and accusation in eyes normally so warm as hers. But she was right, wasn't she? What, after all, could it be called for him to follow so meekly, to let Elijah kill without so much as speaking. Then again, Nida couldn't be sure that it would be anything but silly to try to stop him. If Elijah really thought that he was this 'heir,' then Elijah would be sure to take Nida from Garden, whether Nida was conscious or not, injured or whole. In the end it could be better for Nida to try and learn what he could before trying to get away, right? Or was that just him trying to justify his lack of action?

“He's right, you know,” Elijah said, taking another step forward. “You're going to die here. But know this, it will not be because you are in my way, or at least it will not be that alone. Instead, know that you will die for insulting the heir. Stupid woman. You can't even understand that it is you and those like you who are the traitors. Traitors to the ancient power and rule of the Zebalgans, traitors who put that cruel, bloodthirsty god before you own kind, even when he slaughtered your people. Sadly, you will not get the chance to repent, and for that I am sorry.”

And then, without another word, Elijah was upon her, a red blur that sometimes glinted with the flash of steel. Nida could do little more than turn his gaze away, unable to watch for the outcome that he knew at this point would come. That didn't stop him from hearing the grunts of pain from Alana, or the sound of steel on steel. As if to punish his cowardice, Nida's mind seemed quite happy to provide it's own thoughts on what the fight would look like, blow by blow, moment by agonizing moment. The fear, though, was something that was easiest to imagine. Unlike Alana, Nida had been on the receiving end of Elijah's true speed once, the speed Elijah had immediately thrown himself into. Alana, like Nida, had sparred with Elijah enough over the years to think she knew just how strong, just how fast, just how skilled he was. Finding out with each blow that you were wrong about such things, trying desperately despite the fact that every blow pushed you further and further back, drained your energy more and more, it was a terrible feeling that Nida had faced only once before, during the war. Had it not been for Xu, one of the students who supported Norg would happily have run Nida through, and as it was Nida had a scar from the encounter, and a healthy respect for the fear that such situations created.

A quiet thud reached Nida through his best attempts to block it out, and Nida could not help the urge to look back, to see Alana there, on her knees before Elijah, bleeding from a dozen different places. For a moment she still clutched her sword, but her strength failed her even as Nida watched, and the blade clattered uselessly to the floor. The image burned itself into Nida's mind, and slowly, so slowly, the rest of her slumped limply to the floor. Elijah stood there, and Nida could just barely make out an amused smirk on the red-haired man's lips as he raised his sword before thrusting it down into Alana's spine. The very sight, so needless and cruel, almost made Nida sick.

“Come on,” Elijah said, turning to Nida and holding out a hand that was sprinkled with blood, Alana's. “It's time to move on. There should be a flier waiting for us.”

Nida looked up and watched as Elijah sighed and knelt to clean first his hand, and then his blade on one of the few places left on Alana's shirt. Despite the shaking in his legs, Nida rose to his feet, and stumbled towards Elijah, though he ignored it when Elijah held his hand out once more. Instead he fell to his knees beside Alana, staring down at the horrible wound on her back.

“Why?”

“She was in the way.”

“She didn't deserve this,” Nida snapped, looking up at Elijah. “None of them have deserved what you have done to them. Why are you doing this?”

“Better that they fall now than fall later, when the war comes.”

War. The very word all but took the fire out of Nida. Did Elijah not remember the prices they had all paid in the Sorceress Wars? They had taken away Nida's family when he was just a child, and he didn't even know their names now. They had taken away Daphne's husband. They had taken away countless friends and comrades. And here was Elijah, acting as if he wanted it all to happen again. The destruction, death, and chaos that broke people, that was what war was.

No, Nida thought, he couldn't allow that. Quickly he reached out, wrapping his hand around the hilt of Alana's sword. There was not a spot of blood on it, Nida noted with sorrow, she had not landed a single blow on Elijah. How then was Nida, who Elijah had trained but who had never won a single sword fight, to win now?

Nida shook his head, shook the thoughts, the feeling away from himself. This was no time to think, as Elijah would often tell him. Just live, react with the sword, and let it be part of you. Let go of anger for it made you strong but unguided. All of Elijah's lessons rushed back as Nida stood, raising Alana's sword, taking a moment to find the balance, and turning to face Elijah. As he finally faced the red-haired man, Nida raised the sword into a defensive stance.

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

Elijah blinked, once, twice, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. In fact, Elijah didn't even take his own stance, as if he didn't feel Nida was a threat, just a confused child that needed talking to.

“What are you talking about? We're almost out of here.”

“I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. We're staying here until the senior SeeDs get here. You're under arrest.”

“Don't be silly,” Elijah said, moving towards Nida.

Not a second later, Elijah was jumping back a step, avoiding the edge of the long sword Nida had swung at his arm. For a moment Elijah stood there, frowning, before raising his own sword.

“Fine. I see. You wish to test me. Then we shall do this your way.”

Nida didn't even get a chance to blink before Elijah was before him, well within Nida's guard, his Rupio knocking away the sword Nida had taken up with ease. There was barely enough time for Nida to react, dodging back a few inches, before Elijah's free hand came up to tangle in the uniform Nida still wore. When Elijah made to jerk Nida forward by the fabric, Nida raised his sword once more, something Elijah noticed quickly enough so that he could push Nida away before cutting himself on the blade Nida stumbled back another step, backing towards the central core of the Garden, twisting his body as he moved so that he could put his guard back up when he regained his balance. All Nida could do for a moment was glare at the man he had respected, trusted, shared his bed with, and tighten his grip on the sword. After a moment and a breath, Nida lunged forward, sword lashing out, only to find the flat of Elijah's Rupio. Elijah smiled, sweetly, lovingly, and with a simple twist-flick of his wrist, Elijah knocked the sword from Nida's hand, his motion continuing so that he could whip the blade across Nida's right bicep.

For a moment Nida forgot himself, the cut doing exactly what Elijah had likely wanted it to do. The pain was sudden, unexpected considering the situation, and the feeling of warmth rolling down his arm was all that Nida could focus upon. Without thinking Nida pressed his left hand against the shallow, stinging, arm numbing cut, but the blood made it hard for him to keep his hand in place, uniform to absorb some of it or not. A look of concern flashed through Elijah's eyes as Nida watched, yet the red-haired man's motion towards Nida made Nida stagger back a step, his hand clutching all the harder at the cut. A little voice echoed in Nida's head then, one filled with disgust and shame. Was Nida really going to let so minor of an injury stop him, the voice asked. Was he really so craven?

No, but that didn't mean he was going to pick up the sword. Common sense said that Nida, who had never been very good with the weapon, would hardly be a match for Elijah with the distracting pain of the cut. How, then, could he expect to hold his own against a master swordsman? If he had a pole of some sort, or even tambos, it would have been different. Nida could then throw himself into the fight, have some hope of not only protecting himself and others, but of taking Elijah down.

“Are you satisfied? Please, stop fighting me, Great One. Don't you understand? We've been waiting centuries for you. How can you deny us now that we have found you?”

“I'm not whatever it is you've gotten into your mind that I am. I'm just a SeeD, Elijah, and you've killed my companion tonight. I'm just Nida, and you've killed a friend of mine, students of mine. And for what? Some ancient prophecy! Some damn fool's idea of a prank! I'm not going with you, Elijah. Never.”

Elijah was silent for a while, his expression sad, almost pitying. “I'm sorry, Nida. I can't leave you behind. That isn't how this works.”

“Tell me, then, how does this work?”

Nida couldn't help the way his head snapped towards the sound of Seifer's voice, though he could easily see out of the corner of his eye that Elijah was whirling to face their new arrival as well. New arrivals really, for now Elijah was slipping into a true defensive stance, something that was understandable considering that the best that Garden had to offer had finally arrived. Squall stood there, gunblade in one hand, fist on his hip, and giving Seifer a dirty look. Seifer, never one to care for Squall's opinion, merely shrugged the glare off as he walked forward, each step bringing him and Hyperion closer to Elijah. With a sigh Squall started forward too, his legs bathed in the pale blue glow of the Lionheart, apparently not about to let the blond gunblader get too far ahead.

Seifer, ever the embodiment of nonchalance, tapped the hit of Hyperion against his hip as he came to a rest just out of Elijah's range. His voice, though, was as patronizing as ever.

“Because, if you ask me, saying 'no' does tend to be how it works. Don't you remember that lecture? The one where the Instructors all but beat the idea that 'no means no' into our heads and all that shit? Geez, Zale, don't tell me you've already forgot something as simple as that. Hyne, it's amazing you even passed the exam when you so obviously can't remember simple rules. How could you ever remember something as complex as orders?”

“I just figured out what you would do in a situation, and then do the opposite. That tended to the what the orders were anyway,” Elijah retorted.

His voice was amazingly calm, but Nida could tell that Elijah was anything but that. Even now, when he was no longer sure just who Elijah was, he could still read some of Elijah well. There was a tightness in his stance, one that was not normally present, and a precise edge in his words that was not normally there, a precision to his words that Nida only noticed when Elijah was upset in some way. Most of all, Nida could not help but note, Elijah's grip on the hilt of Rupio was constantly shifting, as if Elijah longed to attack, to bury his blade in Seifer's stomach.

“Very funny. Remind me to laugh next time,” Seifer said, all emotion gone from his voice. He too looked ready to fight.

“We don't have time for this,” Squall said, at last coming to stand with Seifer, only five feet from Elijah.

“I know,” Seifer agreed, raising Hyperion before him in that loose, one-handed grip that he used.

“And I have even less,” Elijah growled under his breath, something Nida was sure that only he had heard, before throwing himself at the pair of gunbladers.

Then, everything was like a dream, one he had known before. It was all right, the ache of pain in his arm, the attempt to staunch the flow of blood, and even the urge to take up the sword at his side as he watched the battle that was joined before him. The red of Rupio, black of Hyperion, and the pale blue of Lionheart danced between the three men, flashing and turning the light this way and that, meeting with sparks, narrowly missing cloth and flesh. It was all a dance, a deadly one, that Nida had seen before in his smoke dreams, all the same save for the urge to help Squall and Seifer, not Elijah. Yet even if he could take up the blade, what could Nida do in this level of battle? Even though they were all roughly of an age with Nida, the three seemed to move in a way that Nida could not describe, where every near miss and narrow block felt like a death blow in Nida's heart. Any second could result in one of those misses being a hit, one of those blocks failing to stop a stab, or even Squall or Seifer pulling a trigger, firing on the red-haired man.

The truly amazing thing, though, was that Elijah was somehow holding the two gunbladers off. Nida would have credited it to the fact that Squall and Seifer had never fought together before, yet the pair moved in almost perfect unity despite that. And still, Elijah held them off. In the same motion he would turn away a blow from Lionheart and meet Hyperion in a flash of sparks. Both Seifer and Squall pulled back a half step before swinging in again, both aiming for Elijah's stomach, but each attack coming from a different side. Still Elijah managed to dance out of the way, and even block a quick blow from Hyperion meant for his head. Squall took the momentum from the swing to twist and bring the blade up higher, ultimately aiming to strike at Elijah's head, though the blow only glanced off of the red sword and Elijah ducked easily out of the way. No matter the attack, though, Elijah kept himself between the duo and Nida, and never gave the pair a single step for more than a few seconds.

What stuck out most, though, was when a blow from Seifer was easily parried, and Elijah twisted his sword around to cut at the eyes of the blond. Seifer danced back a step, only to have Squall fill the space Seifer left, attacking once, twice, three times.

It wasn't like a dream, it was the dream Nida had dreamt just before Elijah's departure to Trabia. A dream of smoke and fog, much like this, just a few days ago. A dream where Elijah fought shadowy foes, with Nida watching on and longing to protect him. Except all Nida wanted to do was take up Alana's sword and drive it through Elijah's chest.

Then Elijah's sword was cutting across Seifer's left arm, and in the wake of the blade was a red gash that made the look on Seifer's face all the more determined as he lunged forward once more. Still, that didn't change the fact that Elijah had drawn first blood, and against the former golden boy of Garden.

The victory for Elijah didn't last very long, for what Elijah had not noticed in that second, Nida did. While the red-head was pulling back his arm, preparing to deliver a similar blow to Squall, the end of Quistis's whip wrapped around his sword arm. The blonde woman, newly arrived to the battle, tugged on the whip as Elijah noticed it, pulling the man away from the gunblader duo and backing into a clearer part of the hall. The reason for that retreat was obvious seconds later, as a slight whistle in the air, coming from the direction of the raised area of the elevator, signaled yet another arrival. Elijah had already seen what was coming, though, and jumped back another step, even as a crossbow bolt bounced off of the stone floor. There was just enough of a curse to be heard for Nida's eyes to be drawn to the place where Xu was peeking out over the banister of the elevator area, setting another bolt to her crossbow.

“There is nothing you can do, Elijah. Surrender.”

“Not the kind of offer I'm allowed to take, Squall,” the red-haired SeeD responded, backing further and further away from the gunbladers, and closer to Nida. The path wasn't a straight one, though, with the way that Elijah had to jump out of the way of another crossbow bolt.

“How do you think you're going to escape from this?” Seifer asked, moving close in on Elijah once more, Squall and Quistis not far behind, but all mindful of keeping a shot open for Xu.

Soon Elijah was at Nida's side, and Nida could see a slight smile reach Elijah's lips at Seifer's words. For a second there was a far away look in Elijah's eyes, something that was oddly familiar, and then the smile grew into a smirk.

“Like this.”

Too late Nida recognized the signs all over Elijah, written in the speed he had shown, in his ability to dodge Xu's bolts, obvious in the blue eyes, the slightest movements of his lips, and the hand gesture. All of it shouted 'summoning.' Nida would have shouted, warned everyone, but by the time Nida realized it, having thought the whole time that Eliah couldn't have been left junctioned, it was already too late to stop the Guardian Force from manifesting.

A bouquet of flames leapt into existence in front of where Elijah had been standing, the fires dancing higher with each moment until they burst apart, revealing a red, burning lizard roughly the size of a man. The creature looked around itself slowly, before the fires around it swelled once more. At last the creature seemed to inhale the flames before breathing them out all around the area. Nida, just behind the edge of the attack, still had to cover his face due to the heat of the flames.

By the time the fires had died down and Nida felt safe enough to peek out from behind his arm, there was no sign of Elijah anywhere. Nida slowly rose and stumbled over to where Squall and Seifer lay, their clothes and hair slightly singed, apparently protected in time by some spell. As quickly as Nida could, he stumbled forward and knelt by Squall, his mind focusing as best he could to reach for one of the fixed spells in his mind. Soon enough Nida was struggling to focus the fixed cure spell to work on curing the worst of the burned skin back to its untouched state. Nida's own wounds could wait, after all.

“What was that?” Quistis said as he moved to kneel by Seifer. From Nida's quick glance he could see that she was far less injured than the gunbladers, probably because she had been further away. Quickly she sent a powerful end cure spell into Seifer. “I haven't seen a GF like that before.”

Before Nida could respond, Xu was leaning across from him and raising her own hands above Squall to focus her magic. “Uncatalogued?” she asked.

“Fuck, bastard is getting away, and all you guys are sitting here talking?” Seifer growled, already regaining some of his vigor, and raising to sit up with Quistis's help.

“Don't worry,” Squall said as he sat up as well, “Irvine headed for the Quad as soon as he heard about Elijah's escape.”

“How lucky that he was there,” Nida couldn't help but say, pulling back from Squall so Xu could deal with him, and focusing his magic on his own wound.

Xu looked about to speak, but Quistis put a hand on her arm, shaking her head. Neither Squall nor Seifer offered any information either. It took a second, but Nida figured out why no one would say explain. Elijah had broken out of wherever he had been held and his first action had been to go for Nida, likely taking out anyone between there and Nida's room that dared get in his way. And Nida, he had done nothing to stop Elijah once he had been led away from his room by the red-head, had done nothing in the room either. Not once had he fought back, struggled or acted in any way against Elijah until the very end. Which meant that no one was sure of what role Nida played in this, other than the fact that whoever the Zebalgans were, they wanted Nida with them. Wanted him enough to have someone drag him out, willing or not, someone willing to slaughter to get Nida.

“Bad news,” Irvine's voice came from behind Nida, and Nida could not help but whirl to face him. The auburn haired gunner had tilted his hat down to hide his eyes, and his hands were gripping his rifle so tightly that his knuckles were white. “There was an unmarked flier waiting for him. I didn't see the pilot. Only managed to wing him. But... I think I know who he was running to.”

“Who?” Squall demanded, standing.

“Boyce Megill,” Nida cut in, shaking his head. “He said he was going to take me to Boyce.”

“Why would he want to take you to a retired weapons master?” Xu asked.

“Don't be dense,” Seifer snapped even as Irvine responded with “Isn't it obvious?” Seifer glared at the gunner for a moment, but made a small gesture and Irvine continued.

“Boyce Megill is probably behind this whole Zebalgan thing. I'd put my money on him being the man in white. No, the real question has to be why Nida.”

Nida didn't have a chance to react to that question, to the answer Elijah had offered, because even as Irvine spoke he trained his gun on Nida. The move would seem almost casual to another person, but Nida knew well that Irvine didn't point a gun at anyone, even if the safety was on. The weapon was a threat, a promise, and focused only on him.

“Quistis,” Squall said, his voice as cool and collected as if he hadn't just been badly burnt, as if one of his comrades wasn't pointing a weapon at one of his subordinates, and as if there weren't likely countless numbers of dead and injured in the Garden now. “I want you to get Selphie and Zell and deal with the wounded. I'm authorizing use of junctions for high level cures. Set up triage with Kadowaki.”

The blond nodded and quickly ran off, pulling her comm out even as she moved.

“Irvine, Xu,” Squall continued, looking at both in turn, “follow me. And bring Nomura.”

Nida flinched back at that, less at the fact that Squall was putting him under armed guard, and more because of the icy cold way that the Commander had used his last name. Nida had never heard it from Squall before, the few times he had been in direct conversation with Squall having been on a limited first name basis. It was Squall's concession to a personable environment.

“What about me, Princess?”

For a moment Squall's eyes flashed towards Seifer, and then Nida saw Squall shrug. “You're no longer a member of Garden. As such you are beyond my command. You are free to return to your room whenever you wish.”

Seifer nodded, and when Squall turned on his heels to walk away, Seifer fell into step beside him, smirking the whole while. Between the two gunbladers, Irvine and Xu, Nida wasn't quite sure if his escort was going to turn into a relatively friendly debriefing, or a firing squad.

The answer came soon enough, as Squall lead the group down into the briefing room. Nida was directed into seat by Xu, who took up a guard position by the door, just as Irvine had outside of the room. Seifer plopped down into a seat a few places down from where Nida had been directed, and immediately leaned back to put his feet up on the table. Squall remained standing nearer to the door, of course, and he gave Seifer a dirty look, but Seifer made no move to remove his boots from the table.

“I want answers,” Squall said, arms crossed over his chest, but Nida noted that his hands still rested close to the hilt of where his gunblade was sheathed.

“I don't know if I have any,” Nida admitted.

“Oh, so that is why you ran?” Seifer asked, and Nida couldn't help but flinch back from the words. Even though he'd thought this would come up, the accusation still hurt.

“I... I didn't run.”

“Right, right. You had no choice in the matter. Just followed him like a puppy on a leash, right?”

“I don't have to answer to you,” Nida snapped. “Why are you even here? You're not a SeeD...”

“Well, when failures like you passed the exam, it's hardly surprising that someone as talented as me would get passed over,” Seifer growled back.

“Silence,” Squall said, his voice low, dangerous. Nida instantly obliged, turning his attention to Squall rather than Seifer. Surprisingly, Seifer seemed to listen as well. “Seifer is here because I allow it. Now, report. What happened?”

Nida wanted to meet Squall's eyes, wanted to act like this was any other debriefing, and yet when he tried, he couldn't meet the cold, blue-gray eyes of the other SeeD. At last Nida gave up and turned his eyes to his hands. How long ago had it been since Elijah had grabbed his hand and pulled him off into the night? Five minutes? Ten? An hour? Nida couldn't even be sure. It all felt like a dream, a nightmare.

“I had just finished my work with Xu on trying to track the videos. I had been getting late and I could barely stay awake, so Xu offered to take over and sent me to bed. When I got back to my room I just fell into the bed in my uniform, but I couldn't get to sleep. I was there for a while, then I heard the door slide open. I grabbed my knife. Only Irvine, Elijah, and you, Squall, have the code to my room...”

“Why?” Squall cut in, and it was a question Nida hadn't wanted to hear. The fact that anyone other than Squall or Nida had access to Nida's room was not something that really looked good.

“As you are aware, I've been training Irvine with polearms,” Nida said, starting with the one that was easier to explain, hoping to buy himself some time to think of an excuse regarding Elijah. “There are times that Irvine desires to practice but I am unavailable due to other duties. As such I thought it fitting that he have access to my room so that he can acquire whatever training gear he might need.”

“And Elijah?”

If Squall didn't know yet that Nida was—had been?—in a relationship with Elijah, Nida hardly wanted it to come up now. Sure, a secret would look bad, but would it look as bad as literally sleeping with the enemy? Still, there had to be an answer, so Nida took a deep breath and said the first believable thing that came to mind.

“Relatively the same reason. Elijah has been—was—something of a mentor to me before the war. He helped me learn how to fight well, and even now we still spar. He had been teaching me to use swords, and while for that we practiced with the blunted blades in the training area, when it came to real sparring he used Rupio or one of his practice blades, and I used one of my weapons. The problem was sometimes there wasn't much time in my schedule. Elijah got tired of my refusals based on schedule, and badgered my door code out of me. That way, he said, he could just grab the weapons before coming to see me and save me time. He could even put things away after we were done when I had to run off to other appointments.”

Squall seemed to nod to himself at that, and Nida resisted not only the sigh of relief over Squall's acceptance of that tidbit of truth, but also the urge to look at Seifer. Who knew how the blond would be reacting to Nida's story, whether he was about to call bullshit or not, or whether there was the self-satisfied smirk that would indicate that he had already told Squall what he knew. That would be the worst, and Nida knew that he'd rather face Squall calling him on lies later than the demoralizing blow such a look from Seifer would be.

“Continue.”

“When I asked Elijah why he had come, he said that he'd cleared everything up with you. He had Rupio with him, which I thought was odd, but it was dark, and I was tired. I couldn't see the blood.”

“You couldn't smell it?” Seifer said.

Nida sighed and looked away. “If I did, it didn't register. Elijah asked me to leave Garden with him, to steal the Rag and abandon our duties. When I pointed out that I couldn't do that, he told me the story. Or at least, the end of it. Elijah had started telling me the Legend of Vascaroon the other day, and he just went back into it as if no time had passed...”

“What did he say?” Squall said, and Nida frowned at his hands, trying to remember the exact wording.

“That a king asked Vascaroon how to keep peace when people thought he held the power of Hyne for himself alone. Vascaroon said to tell the people that they must look for the power of the god but hold to peace, as only with peace could the magic be used. Vascaroon also said that the Zebalgans could not unlock the magic of the god on their own.”

“Thus the heir?”

Nida looked up for just a moment to glare at Seifer, tired of his interruptions, but still he continued. “Elijah said that Vascaroon had dreams that told him the future, and that Vascaroon saw that his heir would come, and would see the future like he did. That heir would be able to use magic like a Sorceress. The heir would come during a time of great conflict, and would guide the Zebalgans. Then Vascaroon left and the Zebalgans have been waiting for the heir ever since, though they have also sought the other half of Hyne. When I asked Elijah if the Zebalgans thought they had found the heir, he said that the time of the heir had finally come. That they had found him.”

“Who?” Squall asked, even as Seifer said “Guess that proves he was one of the bastards.”

_We've found you_ . 

Nida looked up, finally meeting Squall's eyes.

“Who what?”

“Did he say who the heir was?”

_We've found_ you. 

“Hyne, you've got to be kidding me...” Seifer said, taking his feet from the table and sitting up straighter. “You? They think you're the heir?”

When Nida nodded, Squall just sighed. Seifer was more vocal though.

“You've got to be kidding me. Why the fuck would they think that? No offense, Nida, but the only thing you're heir to is the title of fuck up.”

“That is why he went for you,” Squall said, as if Seifer hadn't even spoken. “Not because you're one of the Zebalgans.”

“I hadn't heard of them before the video, Squall. Honest. And this heir thing... I have no clue why they would think it was me.”

“Well, except for the dream thing it could be pinned on any guy in SeeD,” Seifer pointed out.

“What do you mean?” Squall asked, and Nida too could not help but wonder what was meant.

“Well think about it. We've lived during multiple wars, so definitely a 'time of conflict.' On top of that SeeD works with para-magic. Outsiders could easily confuse that with the way that Sorceresses work. Elijah and Megill, though, should have known better. Even the way that SeeDs fix spells is vastly different from how Sorceresses use magic. To be honest, with that sign alone would really make you think they'd pin this on Squall or myself. After all, the best way you can get a guy with magic like a Sorceress is to look to their Knights?”

Nida turned his eyes towards Squall, and watched as the gunblader's expression changed from one of agreement to one of bewilderment as Seifer spoke. While Nida too was confused about the difference between para-magic and that of a Sorceress, he was more confused as to why Seifer would pair Squall with himself under the title of Knight, and what Knights would even have to do with the prophecy.

“Listen,” Seifer said, obviously reading something that Nida couldn't see in Squall's expression, “it's like this. As a Sorceress Knight, we not only anchor the power of our mistresses, but we also begin to be a bit like them. The longer you are tied to a Sorceress, and the closer you are, the stronger our magic becomes. Part of it also has to do with how strong the Sorceress is. Spend long enough as a Knight, with a strong enough Mistress, and things like junctioning to improve your physical and magical abilities becomes less and less necessary. On top of that, your magical control, even with para-magic, becomes more subtle, more precise. You would have noticed this yourself if you spent more time with Rinoa to reinforce the ties you have to her as her Knight. Give it a week around her all the time and you'll have no problem pulling off giant icicles like Edea's.”

Squall shook his head and returned his attention to Nida, apparently no longer caring for Seifer's take on things. “Why would they think it was you?”

For that, Nida had no answers. All he had was the trembles the idea sent through him, and the fact that Elijah had seemed quite positive about it.

“I don't know. I've never been great with magic, and I can't do anything but a low level cure without a GF.”

“And the dreams?”

“Who doesn't have fucked up dreams that gets it right once in a while?” Seifer offered.

Nida couldn't help but think of the dream of fog and smoke where Elijah was fighting. It had been so like the battle between the red-haired SeeD and the two gunbladers before him. Quickly Nida shook the dream from his head. That, though, seemed to be enough of a denial for Squall.

“After he told you the story, what happened?”

“He told me they had found me. The way he said it...”

So intense, so  _certain_ . 

“Squall, we're dealing with fanatics. He believed, believes, I am this heir of theirs. There is no doubt in him, and he blew his cover when he might have been able to keep it just so that he could take me with him.”

“I can't help but wonder why he thought you would come so easily. Then again...”

Seifer didn't need to say either of the things he was thinking, Nida could tell them well enough. More than anyone Seifer knew, or thought he knew, why Elijah would believe Nida would come with no fight. And, Seifer refrained from saying, Nida had.

“It was then I noticed the blood. I wanted to hit myself for not noticing it before. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet, and all I could do was stare at the blood on Rupio. I asked him what he had done. He called me, 'my lord,' said Boyce was waiting, and he wouldn't answer my question. And then... I was following him. Blindly, stupidly, I followed him. I didn't know what else to do. I should have fought. I should have tried to stop him...”

“You couldn't have,” Seifer said, his voice low, barely noticeable, but Nida heard him anyway.

“When we met Alana, I tried to tell her not to fight. She called me a traitor. I used to have the worst crush on her when I was younger. She disliked me for hanging out with Elijah. They'd always been rivals. I watched as he killed her. Alana didn't have a chance. He was so fast, faster than I'd ever seen him. Elijah, he just seemed to revel in her death. I took up Alana's sword, tried to fight him. He thought it was just some sort of test, and that he proved himself worthy...”

Nida took a deep breath before looking up at Squall once more. “He said it was better that those he had killed died now. Better that they died before the war came.”

“Fuck,” Squall hissed, turning away from Nida.

“I'm sorry, Squall. I should have done something, anything. I can tell you that even were I this 'heir' I would have no intention of ever working with their kind. I didn't want this, Squall, any of this...”

“And yet you didn't even try to stop him,” Seifer said, standing and stretching a bit. “Hyne, I put more on the line than you did in that respect, and I should even be here.”

“I know,” Nida said, barely able to hear his own voice for how much it pained him to admit it. All of the death, the pain, the loss tonight, that was all on his hands. And something told him that Alana's death would be one that plagued him worst. “”I'm sorry.”

There was silence from Squall, who still had his back to Nida, something that was unexpectedly painful. Odd how it felt like just yesterday that Nida had believed he had finally earned recognition in the eyes of the SeeD Commander. Amazing how fast that had blown away.

“Xu,” Squall said at last, though he didn't turn to face her or anyone else, “you and Irvine are to escort Nomura to a bare guest room. Nomura, as well as the room, must be checked for weapons or anything he might use as a weapon. One of the ones with the bolted down metal furniture. No wood, no tall lamps, nothing he can make a weapon from. I want mid to high level SeeDs on the door at all times, two preferably, and station them directly opposite the door rather than on either side. Act as if we are securing a level one threat.”

Nida flinched at the commands, but he had earned them had he not? It didn't help that he had recently proved his ability to escape from highly trained SeeDs either.

“Seifer...” Squall apparently wasn't finished, but he still seemed to hesitate for a moment over the blond, before shaking his head a bit and continuing on. “I seem to remember you being good at hacking dormitory codes. You are to retrieve a few sets of clothes for Nomura, as well as take two uninjured, low level SeeDs to go around the room. If you find anything of interest, report back to me. Otherwise, I want all of his weapons inventoried and brought to my office. Report back to me when you are done.”

For a moment, Nida thought Seifer was going to laugh, and the look on the blond's face was definitely one as confused as the one Squall had managed earlier. In the end, though, Seifer merely shook his head and leaned back against the table. When he spoke, his voice was utterly serious and calm.

“You can't give me orders, remember? I'm not associated with Garden. Just a traveler picked up from Winhill and all of that.”

“I could have you arrested for even being present in this room,” Squall pointed out, his voice cold. “But that would serve nothing. Instead I'm giving you a field commission.”

“No fucking way am I going to be a damn cadet for you, Ice Princess. I'm tired of this place.”

Finally Squall turned, though Nida couldn't see his face with the way he was angled towards Seifer. There was something, though, in the way that Seifer looked at Squall, that told Nida he was better off no to have a good angle.

“Who said anything about being a cadet? SeeD, level twenty. And you report directly to me and me alone. I will deal with the details later, but I am not allowing Cid, or anyone else, say no. I'm not having one of the best gunbladers alive fight against me again.”

“The best,” Seifer corrected, “and what makes you think I'd take you up on your offer?”

Squall turned on his heels and moved towards the door. Something in the air around the gunblader found Xu saluting him as the door opened. That in and of itself was odd, as Squall had spent the first month on the job insisting that no one salute him unless they wanted a one on one sparring match with live blades. When the door opened, Squall turned back for a moment and Nida looked on in shock as Squall shot Seifer a smirk, the very one that was all but a trademark of Seifer.

“Why else would you willingly come back?”

With that, the commander left the room, very shortly followed by Irvine's entrance. The gunner shook his head and shrugged.

“Something tells me I've missed quite the show in here.”

“You've no idea,” Nida said with a sigh.


	8. Chapter 7

His internal clock said he'd been here less than three days. Every bit of anxiety, restless energy, and boredom insisted that it had been somewhere around a week. A long week of staring at white walls, at windows tinted so that he could not see out, at a computer console that did little beyond letting him play card games and look at the Garden Network boards. Not that the latter bothered him too much, as last time Nida checked the boards had been flooded with speculation and accusation pointed towards Elijah and himself. Still, the room had become a place of desolation for Nida, with little to do but stare at the ceiling, eat, sleep, and spend his mornings working out in whatever way he could until his muscles all but screamed in protest. Well, there was all of that and thinking.

Nida couldn't help but yawn as looked up at the ceiling, but despite the fatigue, Nida refused to sleep. How could he, after all, when every time he closed his eyes he saw the path of bodies that Elijah had left behind them on the way towards the Quad. The sight of Alana in particular stick in his mind, lifeless before him only because she had chosen to stand in Elijah's way. Alana had been goo, so good, and Elijah had taken her out with no effort at all. For all anyone knew, Elijah could have taken out Squall or Seifer alone without much effort. The only thing that had gotten Elijah to run without Nida had been being faced by a near overwhelming number of high level SeeDs and Seifer. The very thought was almost as sickening as the the visions that plagued Nida. Rest was impossible.

It was that which made the sound of the door sliding open almost welcome. Granted, Nida knew it wouldn't be anything more than his evening meal, but it was still something different, something that wasn't the solitude of his head. And yet, Nida still felt his body tensing, reflex making him reach under his pillow to seek the knife that wasn't there. Then, with a sigh, Nida slowly sat up and watched as a tall, blond SeeD placed a tray of food on the small, bolted down metal table in the small sitting area of relatively bare suite that had been turned into a holding room shortly after the war.

“Thanks. I'll knock when I'm done,” Nida said, the same words that he gave with every meal so far. At least Squall had allowed him the privacy to eat undisturbed. Squall, after all, had every reason to have someone watch to make sure Nida didn't pocket a spoon or something as a weapon.

“Not going to invite me to coffee?” the SeeD said as he turned around, causing Nida's jaw to drop.

To say that Seifer looked good in the uniform would have been a severe understatement. The dark blue, which Nida was only noticing now was the same shade as the vest Seifer used to wear, suited the blond far better than white ever had. The intricate gold piping on the chest of the uniform even seemed to make Seifer's hair seem brighter. The cut of the cloth only served to enhance the muscles Seifer had taken pride in developing over the years, and made him seem taller than his already imposing height had accomplished on its own. It was as if the uniform had been specifically designed for the day when the former Sorceress knight would put it on. Even the bit of the red in the uniform, part of the intricate designs on the front meant to mask the face that the uniform also served as light body armor, made the red slash across Seifer's face more menacing. Most amazing, though, was the fact that save for the combat boots that were obviously Seifer's old pair, the whole thing was worn perfectly to regulation. There was no sign of rebelling against Squall's authority by disrespecting the uniform.

“Close your mouth, Nidulus. I might get ideas.”

Only then did Nida notice he had gone a little slack-jawed. Quickly he closed his mouth, shook his head, and hauled himself to his feet.

“Somehow I doubt that, Seifer. I just wasn't expecting...”

“What? My glorious presence? The uniform?”

“The latter,” Nida admitted. “You were bound to show up eventually to taunt me. But to actually see you in the uniform...”

“Why shouldn't I wear it? I got the position, didn't I? Helps to remind people of it.”

Nida nodded, because in a way it made sense. Seifer, like everyone else, had worked towards making SeeD while he was at Garden. The exam where Nida had earned his own position had been Seifer's third and final attempt. The one thing people had always been sure of was that Seifer, while a jerk and not a very good team player, had his eyes on the SeeD position just as much as the rest of them. When it was dangled in front of your eyes for the better part of your lives there was little more in the world that you could possibly ever want. Still, Nida had been sure that Seifer would never be caught dead in uniform if he made SeeD. Now that he met Seifer's eyes, though, he understood that there was more at play than those arguments. There was pride there, written in the bright green. It had been pride at finally being able to call himself SeeD, no matter the circumstances that led to it, that had put Seifer into that uniform.

So Nida just nodded and made his way into the small sitting room to join Seifer and the food. Almost predictably, it turned out to be soup, and cold at that. Memory and Nida's internal clock said it was dinner, which made this the second meal today of cold soup. Third meal with only a spoon, all but the final proof that Nida needed on a theory he had developed early in the afternoon the day before.

“I'd offer you coffee,” he said, “but I've got nothing to boil the water in, or even anything to heat the water. Seems that they don't trust me with fire. Or glass. Or even dinner guests.”

“What do you mean?” Seifer asked as he plopped down onto the highly uncomfortable couch, putting his booted feat on the table beside Nida's dinner tray. “Squall's just giving you some privacy, right?”

“You're the first one to talk to me since I got put into this room. Granted, you're the first one I've encountered who I could claim to recognize easily before I was put in here. You're also the first one I've seen for more than the time it took me to put down the tray. Put that together with the fact that I haven't seen a fork in a day, warm food in a day and a half, and not even a hot drink in longer... Throw in the sudden addition of a watch dog while I eat and the lack of access to the network that I've been experiencing these last few hours... Let's face it, Seifer, I'm about half a day from the brig at this point, and I wouldn't doubt it if you were on orders to take me there after my meal.”

“Putting such an underhanded plot on me? I'm offended, Nidulus,” Seifer said, mock hurt in his voice.

“Not you. Squall. Important difference,” Nida admitted as he sat down next to Seifer and reached for the spoon, holding it lightly by the end and spinning it round and round in his fingers. “By this time tomorrow, I'll be on bread and water.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because Squall knows I can kill someone with a fork and a knife easily, so he took those away. Hell, chances are I can do something with a spoon or a bowl. Which is why you're here. I can't take you on, even if I was armed, but a low level SeeD? A higher level who wasn't as familiar with me? Might be a challenge for us both, but I might just be able to make it. All of the specialization courses that I took here were focused on information retrieval and escape after all. Learning to make weapons out of anything, to make the best of a bad situation. Thus, unwatched, I could pocket the spoon. Watched I could damage someone. But you... no chance of either. You don't trust people who aren't your posse.”

With that, Nida started into the soup, though he only managed two sips before Seifer started to chuckle.

“Seems that I owe Irvine some money.”

Nida paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth, an eyebrow slightly raised in question.

“I didn't think you'd notice the escalation so fast. Not that I didn't think you would, not with what I've heard about you. Then again, you don't get to your level without being good I guess. Still, I thought we had another day before you picked up on it. So tell me, when did you figure it out?”

“For sure? When the soup was cold. Theory? When the network shut me out of everything but the library order system yesterday, but I was all but positive when I lost even that. Something has to be going on for that degree of shut out.”

Seifer nodded. “I didn't think you should be kept in the dark, but who wants to agree with a traitor? Then again, people here are starting to trust me more than you at this point.”

Nida sighed and put down the spoon, pushing away the tray. Eating was hardly likely now, not with Seifer so willing to talk.

“They feel betrayed, and rightly so. If I was truly on their side, I would have stopped Elijah. That has to be the rational. I know I would think that if I was on their side. If I had, they would have suspected me for the very fact that he came for me, for what he thought I was. They would have wanted explanations, proof, neither which I couldn't have given them. I have no answers, wasn't able to hurt him, and I can't even explain why. People died because of me. Alana died. I've lost any right I eve had to trust.

“Yep,” Seifer agreed easily. So easily that Nida had to roll his eyes.

“Don't you even start on that. I want you to sit there like a good little prisoner, all quiet and obedient and all of that, and you're going to listen to me. Got it?” Seifer growled, suddenly very serious. “You fucked up, fly-boy. Bad. If you're innocent, and between you and me, I think you are, then it is a little understandable. Shock can do things like that to the best of us, and I can only imagine what it would be like to be in a situation like you were, to have someone you cared for like that betray you. Hyne, I give you points for trying, even though it was way too little and way to late. But the fact that I believe you hardly helps your case, especially when its built on a detail that no one else has.”

“And that is?” Nida couldn't help but say, though it earned him quite a dirty look from Seifer.

“Your relationship with Elijah. If you were smarter, if you were guilty, you could have used it to your advantage. Girls would have given you plenty of sympathy, they go gaga over lost love and all of that. Who would have blamed you for not hurting someone you were in a relationship with? Then again, if you were guilty you would either have wanted to stay here without being discovered, which meant not letting Elijah run with you, or to escape. Of course, you could easily have attacked Elijah sooner to solidify your position here as a spy, which some people are saying you are. You could have helped him get out as well. Instead you followed, in a daze, and we even have some witnesses to the fact that Elijah was all but dragging you around. At the same time, people want to believe the worst of you because this _is_ your fault. Elijah did what he did not only because he was discovered, but because he thought you were this heir.”

Seifer sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Honestly, at this point, the only thing people on Garden agree about regarding you is that should be locked up to be kept away from the crazies and people seeking revenge.”

Nida couldn't blame anyone either. More than once he'd asked himself why he hadn't attacked Elijah, and Nida was privy to the fact that he'd been in a relationship with Elijah for years now. Too long he'd waited, too many people he'd let get hurt, too many die. Maybe it was best that Nida hadn't been allowed to speak in his own defense really. How could he convince anyone that he hadn't meant anything if he couldn't even explain it to himself? No one would accept that something about the whole thing had made him as weak and clueless as a child, had set his stomach quaking as the very name Boyce Megill did, had thrown him off. You couldn't justify to other people what you couldn't justify to yourself.

“Maybe they're right,” Nida said after a moment. “Maybe I should be locked up. Keep me here until Squall has dealt with the Zebalgans.”

“You'd die before that.”

Nida quickly looked up, meeting Seifer's eyes, seeking further explanation. Dead? Would Garden rather see him executed than possibly fall into the hands of the Zebalgans, or would they hold him responsible for all of the deaths of the other night?

“I mean look at you,” Seifer continued, as if his last statement hadn't been so disturbing. “You look like hell. Last time I saw eyes that red I was looking at Fujin. Have you been sleeping?”

For a second Nida considered ignoring the question, but at last he shook his head. “Not really. It's hard to sleep when you've seen so many people die because of you.”

“I know.”

It was the kind of admission Nida never expected to hear from Seifer, so he said nothing, giving the blond plenty of time to continue.

“Sure, I joined Edea because I was coaxed, and sure, I stayed because I wanted power and all of that, but I'd have to be as cold as our Ice Princess to not be affected by the death that came with it. Didn't stop me from sending people to their deaths in Ultimecia's name... Did you know that I killed one of the few members of SeeD I looked up to during the Garden attack? I also watched one of the few Galbadian men I trusted die when I ordered him to lead his troops into an obvious SeeD ambush. Only reason I slept at all after all of that was because I was just too damn hurt after the fight with Squall and them.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Nida couldn't help but ask.

“Because, in the end, I found that if I didn't sleep, there was no way I was going to survive to prevent the next deaths.”

“I'm hardly going to be preventing anything in here,” Nida pointed out.

“Who says you're going to be in here for long?”

“So it is the brig then?”

Seifer chuckled. “Hardly. Now, I'd suggest you eat before you don't have the chance. I'm on orders to take that away in ten minutes so that you have nothing to fling at the princess.”

“Princess? I mean, Squall? He's coming here?”

“Yep. Not sure why, but he wants to talk to you. In fact, pretty much most of that group is showing up. Though if I had known you were in such as piss poor shape, I would have suggested waiting a bit longer, giving you a chance to shower, maybe even giving you the peace of a sleep spell.”

Ten minutes proved not to be an accurate estimate from Seifer. Squall entered not eight minutes later, just as Nida was finishing his soup. Seifer merely shrugged when Squall looked his way, probably curious as to why Seifer hadn't followed orders, though Squall was unlikely surprised. Squall didn't come alone, though. Just as Seifer had indicated, the other high level SeeDs came in after Squall. Irvine and Xu took up places by the door with their weapons at the ready, and the others arranged themselves leaning against walls or sitting on the floor as Squall took the only seat left open on the couch by Seifer's sprawling.

“Good evening, sir,” Nida said as Squall seated himself. “I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but I seem to be out.”

That got a slight chuckle from Seifer, and stern looks from a few of the others, including Squall. Here at least, Nida mused, was a silence he could read.

“This is serious, Nida,” Quistis sighed.

“These Zebalgans are saying that if we don't turn you over, they are going to start attacking small towns,” Xu offered. At least there, Nida noted, he found a friendly face. “And from the reports of the numbers of people who are just getting up and leaving their lives, dropping off of the face of the planet, it's quite possible they might be more dangerous than we first thought.”

“I say we just shoot him. He can't do much for them if he isn't around,” Irvine suggested.

“That is just ridiculous. He's a resource no matter how you look at it, cowboy,” Seifer countered, not looking up from the inspection of his fingernails that he'd started upon the entrance of the other SeeDs.

“Says the other traitor,” Zell mumbled.

“We're obviously not going to do that,” Squall cut in before the fight that could start. “Nor are we going to hand Nida over. If he is what they want, they aren't going to get him, especially not through an attack on innocents.”

“Why not?” Selphie asked, and all eyes, even Nida's, turned towards her in shock. “Think about it, handing him over might be a good idea.”

There was a predictable amount of protest, yet Selphie waved it away as if it wasn't a concern, plowing along with her reasoning as chipper as ever.

“Oh hush. We all know that if Nida wanted to get away he would have. I for one think this not trusting him is stupid,” Selphie said, sending a rather pointed look in Irvine's direction. “Nida has never let us down before, and he loves SeeD. So we should use him rather than letting him get all mopey in here like he obviously is. Think about it, once all of you stop being silly and trust him, we might be able to use him. Having someone on the inside that they think is one of them may be a really good idea, yeah? Because then we can know what they are planning. I mean, they were going to use Elijah for that before we figured him out, right? Or at least I would have if I was in their position...”

“An interesting idea,” Quistis admitted, “but hardly one we can entertain without being certain of Nida's allegiance. In the meantime, I propose that we continue with what actually brought us here.”

Squall nodded in agreement. “Nida, the Zebalgans believe that you are the heir that they have been looking for. As such we intend to use that to secure one of them for questioning. Will you do this?”

“Is that an order, or a request?”

“That,” Squall said, “I leave up to you.”

As if it was even a choice. There was no way to say no, so it really didn't matter if it was an order or a request. Either way Nida was bound to say yes. So he just nodded. Granted, Nida would have done it either way. He more than owed the others his help, as more than their companion in arms, but as their friend. Maybe they wouldn't see him as such anymore, and there were a few that Nida wasn't sure how to feel about anymore, but there had been friendship there once, hadn't there?

“Good. We will speak again when we determine a place to target. I would suggest that you get some sleep in the mean time.”

“What about Lena?”

Everyone's attention, save Seifer's of course, turned towards Zell.

“Remember?” Zell asked, though obviously no one did. “When we went to the White SeeD ship the second time, after we found Ellone? That girl, Lena, was telling a bunch of kids the story that Elijah and Nida mentioned.”

“A lot of people know the Legend of Vascaroon,” Irvine pointed out from the door.

“Yeah, but I went a third time, with a message from Squall and all that. Lena was telling it again, but it sounded different. I can't remember exactly how, but it was different. Sorta wrong.”

“So now we're on a witch hunt for anyone who has ever mentioned the legend that the world's largest religion is based upon?” Xu asked.

“No, Zell's got a good point,” Seifer said, finally looking up. “These people have expressed active dislike for the Sorceresses and anyone with power like them, not to mention Garden. When you consider the fact that the White SeeD are not only SeeDs, but were charged with Ellone's protection and reported directly to Edea, it makes more than just a little bit of sense for them to have someone there to watch over the people and monitor the location of the ship.”

“Why would you say that?” Selphie asked.

“Because it's what I would do in their place,” Seifer responded. “Don't forget, I think a bit differently from some of you. Honor isn't exactly my number one goal. Getting the job done is, and to do that you need information.”

“You think that way because you're a bad guy,” Zell mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear, but not for anyone to say anything.

“I agree with Seifer,” Squall said after a moment. “And chances are that the White SeeD ship has not received any communication regarding the current situation anyway. The captain will need briefed. Nida, you will accompany us to the White SeeD ship, to act as our messenger and find Lena.”

With that Squall started to stand. Something that had been said, though, found Nida speaking up.

“Wait! You said something about videos? More have been released? Xu hasn't been able to stop the spread or backtrack it?”

“No, and the messages aren't exactly all roses and puppies either,” Seifer said.

“I thought we agreed...” Quistis started, only to be cut off.

“You agreed,” Seifer pointed out, smirking. “I did no such thing. And it was Xu, I would like to note, that first brought them up. Obviously I'm not alone in the whole 'let's not keep the fucking idiot in the dark' camp.”

“I want to see the videos.”

As Nida said this a silence settled over the room, and Nida couldn't help but notice the way that Selphie and Zell looked away from him, the way Quistis seemed to be a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. They were worried, Nida knew, worried about something Nida might see, or might hear? Worried that there would be a message hidden in the videos that would give Nida some orders, some hint, something that he shouldn't know? No, not that, because Selphie was uncomfortable as well, and she seemed quite supportive of Nida.

“It's possible I might notice something new. I mean, if these people want something from me, maybe they would have figured out a way to get a message to me that another of you might not pick up on,” Nida continued, trying to ignore the silence.

“They don't want you to see it. To see any of them,” Seifer said, shaking his head. “It's not because of what they think you might hear, but who you will see.”

“Elijah,” Nida whispered, not even needing anyone to confirm his suspicion. Who better to give him a message, after all? Surely the Zebalgans at least knew of the relationship, planned to use it to lure Nida out, or to speak to him in ways that wouldn't be picked up. Elijah... Nida couldn't help but picture him now in a red robe, a hood obscuring all but the smile on his face.

“He should see it,” Seifer declared as he stood and made for the door.

“Seifer,” Irvine growled, moving to stop Seifer from leaving.

“You know I'm right. All of you. It's just that you don't want to see it. You seek to shield him, or yourselves, from what is going on. Idiots. The greatest tool we have against the Zebalgans right now, whether you like it or not, is Nida. Whether he's the heir or not, whether he sees the future or not, whether he's on our side or not, we know what they believe him to be. We know they want him. That gives us the edge.”

“That isn't...” Irvine started, only to be cut off.

“And you, you're almost as bad as Xu. She seems to believe him no matter what there is against him, and you refuse to believe no matter what evidence there is in his favor. Hyne, look at you. Even though Xu and you are armed, Nida could easily see from where he was sitting... well... Nidulus, tell him what's wrong with our little pair of guards here.”

Nida frowned for a second, then sighed. It was something he had noticed the instant that Xu and Irvine had taken up their posts, but he had tried to shake it off. Now that he was prompted, though, Nida could no longer pretend that he hadn't.

“Xu's safety is on. Her fingers have also never once strayed near them or the trigger. You, on the other hand, have had your finger periodically twitching around your safety. You want to shoot me, whether it's in your orders or not.”

Squall turned to Xu, and Nida missed seeing the look on his face, but Xu seemed to shrink back from it a bit. Irvine, though, seemed relatively unphased.

“What's the problem with wanting to shoot the guy who let so many people die?”

“Because the second you suggested we kill him, Nida didn't tense up. Didn't deny it, didn't flinch, didn't do anything but sit there. There were none of the normal gut reactions to defend himself that you see in most people. Now tell me, what does that tell you about a man? No, never mind, I doubt you've ever had to kill someone up close, so you wouldn't know. Guilty men, who regret what they have done, are harder on themselves than you could ever be. They tend to welcome death, see it as an escape. Nida had no intention of even trying to defend himself when you suggested we take his life. But you're going to ignore that wonderful little detail, aren't you?”

With that, Seifer knocked twice on the door and slipped out the second the guards had opened it wide enough for his bulk to get out.

The sound of the door closing seemed to punctuate Seifer's words. For a time no one said anything, and then Squall was standing and shaking his head.

“We'll show him the videos in transit. Zell, Irvine, you will watch over him, along with Seifer.”

There was a pair of matched nods as Squall made his way to the door.

“We leave at 0600 tomorrow. A uniform will be delivered for you before long. You will have no junctions, spells or weapons. Briefing will be in transit. I would suggest you try and get some sleep.”

Nida nodded, staying silent as the SeeDs finally moved from their spots and left the room in ones and twos. At last he was alone again with the silence and guilt. With a sigh he stood and returned to his cot, lying down and draping an arm over his eyes, hoping that the little bit of extra shielding would keep the ghosts in his head away.

 

* * * * *

 

“You sure you want to see these?”

Nida couldn't help but roll his eyes at Seifer's question. “You know, for the one that was all but insisting that I should, it's odd to have you be the one to question me on that.”

“All I really said was that you should see it. That doesn't mean you have to. There are things in this world that we are better off not knowing. For you, one of those things might very well be those videos.”

“Just put it in. I should at least know  _something_ going into this, shouldn't I?” Nida asked. After all, the briefing he had been given upon boarding the Ragnarok had been minimalistic at best. 

Nida had been told close to nothing. He didn't know where they were meeting the white SeeD ship, whether Lena knew he was coming or not, how he was getting in and out, even if he was going alone, with another SeeD, or otherwise watched. Everything was vague, but whether that was because there were few details to be had, or that they were being kept from him, Nida wasn't sure. Squall and Seifer, after all, had been the only ones in the briefing with Nida. One thing was sure, though, Squall had taken Seifer rather easily into his confidences for men who had been rivals for so long. Well, Nida had come away with one other bit of knowledge: Irvine had been inspecting his sniper rifle when Nida came out of the briefing, and something told Nida it wasn't so that the sniper could take care of any monsters near the White SeeD ship...

“Okay. But don't let it cloud your mind for this mission. This is a chance to prove yourself, at least to a degree. Don't fucking blow it, flyboy.”

With that Seifer activated the monitor at the chair where Nida sat in the observatory room, and then moved to his own chair further away.

These, Nida had learned as Seifer escorted had escorted Nida to the Ragnarok only an hour ago, had been the reason Nida had been cut off from the Garden Network. Apparently the videos had been posted all over the boards by students, and Squall had attempted to keep their content from Nida until the point where they could be analyzed.

The first video, only a few minutes long, was almost insulting. The man in the white robe from the original video, who Nida was now positive was Boyce Megill, spoke of what had happened at Balamb Garden. At first it would almost have seen civil, with Megill expressing his remorse at the loss of life. Yet that quickly changed as Megill started to explain why such death had been  _necessary_ . How they had only done what was needed to secure the one they had long waited for, the heir who would guide them, and through them the world, to an era of great peace and prosperity. Nida skimmed through the video, but nothing beyond the sick feeling that came with the sight of the robe that Megill wore, and the very idea of the man.

It was the second video that made more sense to be kept from Nida. As it started Nida knew something was different this time, for while there wasn't the full assemblage of robed men and women, there was more than just one robed person, and now the faces weren't obscured. The face of the man in the white robe was fully visible now that his hood was pushed back, and it was one that Nida faintly recognized. Boyce Megill looked every bit an old war veteran, his eyes serious despite the almost grandfatherly look of him. His hair and thick beard were almost as white as his robe, and both were well tended and clipped. Something in his gray eyes made Nida shudder. They were calculating, Nida decided rather quickly, cunning and cold despite the almost warm smile the old man wore. They were the eyes of a warrior, of a killer, of a mercenary. Boyce had the skill to back that title up as well, a masterful wielder of an axe, though he was proficient in almost anything he got his hands on. Who better to be a weapons master at a Garden?

This, though, had not been the thing that had been intended to be kept from him. That was an honor that went to the Zebalgan in the red robe, who had also forsaken the anonymity of his hood.

“Elijah,” Nida heard himself whisper as he laid eyes on his former mentor, best friend, lover.

Red, Nida had always known, was Elijah's color. It wasn't just because of his hair, but rather something in his personality, something Nida hadn't been able to put his finger on, then or now. Regardless, red was the right color for Elijah. The way that the red robe pooled around Elijah's body as he sat on a set of black stairs behind Boyce made it look as if he sat in a pool of blood. The image was only enhanced by the fact that Elijah held his blood red Rupio in his lap, toying with the handle of the blade as he had when he had come into Nida's room in the middle of the night.

Unlike Boyce, Elijah wasn't focused on the camera itself, but somewhere beyond it, as if he was looking for the cameraman, or maybe hoping to look through the lens to find Nida. For a moment Nida met Elijah's eyes, as if something of the emotions of the man behind them could still be found on the other side of the video. Part of him wanted to say that Elijah looked almost sad, maybe regretful, but it was only wishful thinking, and Nida knew it. So Nida tore his eyes from the man he had thought he loved, who he had shared so much with these last years, and turned his attention to Boyce.

_Peoples of the world, alas, as you well know a great ill has been done us all. Though we found the one who will lead us and the world to a new era of peace, he is denied to us, misled by those who would seek to maintain conflict in this world. SeeD, who make their living on the conflict between men, cannot accept the idea of peace. Ask yourselves this, could people who truly sought greatness in the world, sought the best for us all, harbor such abominations as the Sorceresses who have countless times tormented our world? These men and women sell their bodies as weapons to perpetuate war, to create the conflict that drives us apart. And yet they protect not one, but two of the greatest criminals of our time! They continue to protect the Sorceress Edea, who murdered President Vinzer Deling with her own hands, and unleashed terrible creatures upon the crowds of the city, slaying countless others. What is more, they have taken into their number the greater offender against humanity: Seifer Almasy, the Sorceress Knight to not only Sorceress Edea, but to the terrible Ultimecia._

_SeeD would have you believe that these great criminals are reformed, that Edea's actions were against her will, and that Seifer should not have his crimes held against him, for he was but a mercenary. But can we accept such foolishness, and with no chance to prove or disprove their ideas? Has Edea every stood trial for the crimes laid at her feet? Has she ever been proven innocent? And what of Almasy? Will the plains of Esthar ever be the same after his releasing of the Lunar Cry? Can we truly trust an organization who harbors such villainy?_

_And what, I ask of you, of the Sorceress they refuse to name, the one who has come to possess the powers of the dread Adel, the most heinous creature known to our time? We have reason to believe that SeeD seeks to train this young woman under the guise of learning to control her power, so that they can unleash her as a weapon. Yes, SeeD does not desire to protect anyone, but to maintain their grip on us all through fear. If we are at peace with each other, how then can they come to gain the only things they truly love, power and gil? Do not doubt this, for how can people who would charge you such outrageous rates to defend your family from the monsters that may attack your homes?_

_No, I tell you, SeeD have proved time and time again that they cannot be trusted to shape our futures. These people who make their lives only by embracing death and destruction cannot be the ones we turn to for peace. We must turn instead to a greater power to shape a world of peace, the power that our ancestors won the right to countless millenia ago: the power of Hyne. Me and my people, the heirs of the ancient kingdom of Zelbalga, which ruled this world long before the rise of even the Centra Empire, will guide us to this power. To do this, though, we must have the one they deny us. We must have Nida Nomura._

_Yet as recent losses have taught us all, SeeD will not relinquish our chance at a future without bloodshed. One of my own lieutenants, who once trained among the SeeD, tried to bring the great one to us. He was lucky to escape unharmed, attacked as he was by Squall Leonhart and Seifer Almasy. They stopped his attempt to bring the heir to us, that he might guide us to true glory. This is something, my brothers and sisters who share my Zebalgan blood or not, that we cannot accept. Thus we shall strike the SeeD where it shall hurt them most. Together we can make them answer to us. All of you who would seek a better future, you have but to deny these power hungry men and women, and demand with us that Nida Nomura be turned over to us withing the next forty-eight hours, that he might give us true power and peace. Cast those who pretend that they are protectors from your cities, towns and villages. The Zebalgans will protect you, as we once did in ancient times. We shall be your shield against the menace that SeeD symbolizes for us all._

_For those of you, though, who would support these pretenders and seekers of violence, I say this. We will not accept those who support these power hungry fools. If you refuse to see logic and truth because you are blinded by these men and women who call themselves your friends, then you will answer to us. The Zebalgans will not allow these SeeDs and Gardens to continue to their ways, now will we accept those who support their foolishness. Any people who do not break off whatever contracts they now have with SeeD, know that we will know, we will find you, and you will answer for this. Such fools can only bring chaos and suffering, and thus we will make sure that they do not survive to see the dawn of the return of the glorious Zebalgan rule!_

_Two days we give you to answer us. You need not raise our flag, or sing our praises, but merely decide among yourselves within your homes and towns. Speak it with others and we will know. Those who choose the wisdom of siding with us will know the good of this. Those who still deny two days from now, we shall know for what they are, and they will know our wrath._

Nida shut off the video, unable to watch any more. Granted there had been only a few seconds left, but that didn't mean Nida could stomach that just for the sake of completeness. People were going to die, and it would all be because of him. 

“How many towns and villages sought protection from Garden after word got out about Elijah's slaughter at Garden, and the first video?” Nida asked, not sure if even Seifer would be willing to answer that.

“Too many,” Zell said, shaking his head. “It isn't too hard these days, with the new policies allowing for them to have one or two present for the sake of dealing with monsters and all of that. Problem is even if we had enough SeeDs to cover all of the requests and our continuing missions, I doubt many people would really be protected if they have more people like Elijah.”

“Plus Garden wouldn't be able to protect itself,” Seifer added from his chair.

“Winhill?”

There was silence, neither Zell or Irvine wanting to share that obviously.

“Hyne, don't act like he's digging for information so he can attack the village. Use your brains for once dammit. Nida was raised in Winhill, he's got friends there.”

“And how do you know that?” Zell demanded.

“You get worked up over the stupidest things,” Seifer sighed. “Come on, Chickenwuss, don't be so dense. I was in Winhill, Nida was sent to get me. When he found me he admitted his connection. Made sense since he found me in his cottage.”

Zell's eyes went wide as he spun his chair to face Nida. “Cottage? Cool, you have a cottage! Did you get it after you made SeeD? I was thinking about getting Mom a place out there...”

“His dead mother left it to him,” Seifer said, effectively shutting Zell up. It was almost amazing ot see just how quickly Zell's excitement faded at the idea of a dead mother.

“Upon hearing this message, Laguna ordered a small contigent of Esthari soldiers to Winhill, to set up a protective perimeter. He's got part of his air force prepared for instant deployment. There is even talk between the Galbadian and Esthari about letting Esthar temporarily annex the Winhill region, to allow them to deploy quickly and easily without having to defer to Galbadian authorities.”

All of that came almost quietly from the corner by the door where Irvine still stood, but Nida was thankful for it. If Laguna was putting that much into defending the village, then Nida wasn't worried. At this point, or any point really, Esthar was not a force one wanted to be on the wrong side of. After the Sorceress War the city-state had opened its borders to the world, revealing itself in all of the might Adel had demanded and Laguna had slowly, gently, and relatively quietly coaxed into true strength. The sheer technological and military edge that Esthar had over the rest of the world was more than simply impressive, it had been quite a powerful force supporting the Garden attempts to restore the places damaged by war. No one was willing to just ignore or attack the country after they had finally seen just how far Esthar had come since the seclusion Adel had forced upon it decades before.

“Has there been any word of attacks by the Zebalgans?”

“We still have a day,” Seifer provided.

“Then I guess we need whatever information we can get from Lena, if she really is one of them. Anything we can learn...”

“We could always take out the thing they want. Maybe then they will be demoralized enough to give up,” Irvine suggested.

“I don't think that would happen. You'd probably end up with an even bigger war then they are already threatening on your hands. What would they have to lose then? They won't hold back if there is no risk of destroying the thing they desire,” Nida pointed out. “Besides, the world can hardly handle another war already. There has been too much.”

“Then you best find a way to stop it, hadn't you?” Irvine asked, though he didn't sound too convinced that it was possible.

Nida honestly didn't know how to respond to that. He was already trying his best, wasn't he? Then again what was 'best' for him? Running sure seemed to have a chance of ranking on the list, but that hardly seemed like it would serve much purpose. Garden and the Zebalgans would be after him then, there would be no peace anyway, and people. With a sigh Nida stood and gestured towards the door.

“We've still got around a half an hour or so before we get there, right? I didn't sleep well last night, and I could do with a bit of rest. Would you be willing?”

“Whatever,” Irvine said, before indicating that Zell should lead the way out.

Seifer stood as well, though he hesitated afterward, and stood in place.

“Hey, I'm junctioned...”

Nida shook his head. “I you use a sleep spell on me, who knows if you'll ever be able to wake me up when we get there. I'll be fine.”

“Sure,” Seifer said before finally turning and following Irvine and Zell out of the observatory, allowing Nida ample chance to stretch out one of the observatory chairs and sleep.

 

* * * * *

 

The steel of the revolver was cold as it pressed against Nida's neck. The wielder of the gunblade was obscured by the fog, but there was really only one person that could hold it: Squall. The blade rested, steady, against Nida's neck, no shaking at all in Squall's hand, no scraping of the sharp edge against his skin. For that Nida was thankful. His end at Squall's hands would be swift then, and relatively painless. It was more than he deserved, though. Still, the blood debt he owed to those he had failed to protect from Elijah would be fulfilled in this way. Irvine had been right, Nida knew now. The only real choice they had was to kill Nida, to take away what problem there was. War SeeDs could handle, but war when so many villages were being held captive with the entire intention of capturing Nida was too much. This way the Zebalgans would focus their offense on SeeD and Garden rather than on defenseless people.

“Nida,” a voice, Squall's, cut through the fog and smoke. “It's time.”

The gunblade drew back, raising for the final blow, and Nida's eyes opened to see Squall standing over the chair Nida had reclined so he could rest.

“Commander. I'm sorry, I was...”

“Whatever,” Squall said, and Nida's eyes flicked for a second to the gunblade at Squall's side for just a moment, before straightening his seat and standing.

“Just point me in the right direction, sir.”

The right direction turned out to be the hanger, and ultimately a small boat that Esthar had equipped the returned Ragnarok with before gifting the airship to the SeeDs of Balamb Garden. Soon Nida found himself equipped with a tracker and communicator, handed a letter for the White SeeD Commander, and being lowered down into the water and rowed the twenty feet to where the White SeeD ship rested in its small harbor. Ragnarok would land on the nearby land, and there Irvine, Nida knew, was to take up a sniping post. The whole plan was to prevent any possible escape for Nida if he attempted it.

Even with the ride to the White SeeD ship, Nida barely had any time to organize his thoughts. It felt like no sooner had Nida sat down in the boat than it seemed like he was being hauled onto the deck of the ship. Even there Nida had no time to breathe, finding himself face to face with Reis Anders, the eldest of the White SeeD, and their leader. The man had an expression of seriousness that rivaled Squall's, so Nida was glad that he could at least read the expressions on the man's face. That and Reis spoke far more than Squall, he was almost talkative in fact. The very idea of someone who would talk to Nida without accusing him of something was a bit of a relief for Nida.

“Commander Anders,” Nida said, snapping the smartest salute he could muster.

“Captain Nomura,” Reis said with a slight bow, the White SeeD salute done to a degree befitting Nida's lower relative rank. “I must admit that I am quite serious as to what business could bring you so shortly after a rather cryptic request to lock down the ship.”

“I suppose that first, sir, I must ask you whether you conceded to the request or not.”

Reis lifted an eyebrow, as if almost amused that Nida would presume to question him, but then nodded. “Lieutenant Colonel Leonhart does not make frivolous requests. I immediately set orders to my best men, and quietest, to prevent all comings and goings, as well as to lock down any external communication to anyone without clearance as well as limiting even that to the Kramers, the Esthari Presidential Palace, and Balamb Garden.”

It took a bit for Nida to resist the urge to sigh. Apparently Reis had not liked the idea of receiving such a request from Squall. The White SeeD was the only 'branch' of SeeDs, as it were, that did not report to the SeeD Commander. As if to reinforce this, the group insisted on addressing Squall not by the title that Cid had given him or the council of the heads of the Gardens had confirmed him in, but as Lieutenant Colonel. Granted, were Squall's position to have been dreamed up by another member of SeeD, or anyone other than Cid, chances were that Lieutenant Colonel would have been Squall's rank, or possibly Colonel as SeeD did not use traditional naval ranks when they referred to their members by anything other than their levels. Nida knew, though, that Reis was using Squall's proper rank just to reassert, even if only to Nida, that the White SeeD were separate from other SeeDs. Reis was quite proud of his own rank of Commander, and probably hadn't enjoyed such an obvious order packaged as a request from someone of an equal rank.

“The SeeD Commander will sure to be thankful. Unfortunately he could not come himself, and I was asked to give you this upon my arrival,” Nida said, fishing out the letter from Squall and handing it over.

“Oh? I expected that you would be something more than just a mail man, Captain.”

“My orders are to present you with this letter then continue with my mission. I'm sure it's all explained in the letter.”

“And why can't you give it to me yourself? Is this truly that confidential?”

“That, too, is explained in the letter. Now, it you would not mind, I am here to see Lena.”

The serious look all but drained from Reis's face, replaced instead with the man all but biting his lip as he looked at the unopened letter.

“That, I fear, would not be possible.”

“And why, sir, would that be?”

Instead of answering, Reis broke the seal on the letter and flipped it open. Quickly his eyes flicked over whatever message was there, and he began to frown. At last Reis quickly refolded the letter and gestured for Nida to follow him.

“I do believe there are some conversations that are better had in private. Shall we?”

That, Nida was certain, could not be good.

 

* * * * *

 

“This morning one of the men I set to securing the boat came to me with a rather alarming report,” Reis said after he closed the door to his room. That was enough to make Nida head for the nearest chair immediately. “Apparently several people were missing come the morning, including one of the men I had trusted. I did not think this would be any of Leonhart's business, White SeeD deal with their own.”

“As do Balamb SeeDs,” Nida responded.

“I can tell, from what little I found when I skimmed Squall's letter. Still, I was concerned enough before your arrival, and when you asked for Lena... Well...”

“She's among the missing.”

With a sigh Reis nodded and moved to sit down across from Nida.

“How many?”

“Five in total, including a man I thought I could trust. I had known Kirgim since we were children in Matron's care. He, Lena, two children and a young woman named Vesa were gone this morning, not to mention one of our smaller boats. While I was far from happy about it...”

“The letter from Squall hardly helps your suspicions.”

Reis nodded. “I fear there is a chance that we may have been harboring people who would seek to do Matron harm without ever knowing it. I am sorry to have let them through my fingers.”

“There is nothing to be done for it,” Nida sighed, though he doubted any of this would reflect well upon him. “We are going to need records of any communications any of them have received in the last week or so.”

“Of course. But I do believe Lena received a message from Garden just yesterday. I will see to getting that to you before you leave.”

“Thank you.”

“The least I can do. I doubt that you, of all people, would want to leave here without something to go on.”

Nida flinched, and was suddenly unable to do much but wonder just how much had been in Squall's letter.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because if these people were after me, thinking I was some kind of prophet or something, I would want to do anything I could to distance myself from them, especially in the Lion's eyes. After all, it isn't like you support them, correct?”

If only Squall, or better yet, Irvine, was as willing to believe in Nida as Reis or Seifer. But that, obviously, was too much to ask for.


	9. Chapter 8

Nida's return to the Ragnarok's hanger was met with a cacophony of furious noises. While most of it seemed to be protests from Irvine and Zell. The former having switched from sniper rifle to a shotgun which had been leveled at Nida upon his entry. The latter was being held back from lunging at Nida only by the oddly comforting presence of Seifer, who had managed to put himself between Zell and Nida at the first possible moment.

“You better back the fuck up, Chicken,” Seifer said, his voice a low growl that actually seemed to make Zell hesitate. Not that Nida could blame Zell for that hesitation, Seifer almost sounded like a hungry Snow Lion.

“He's a traitor. He warned Lena and let her and those others get away,” Zell countered after a moment, finally looking about ready to bowl Seifer over.

“She was already gone when I got there,” Nida tried to point out, not that he really thought that it mattered at the moment.

“And she got a message, from Garden no less. You probably told her to ditch with the others there.” This comment came from Irvine, who looked about ready to shoot both Nida and Seifer.

“The message had been transferred to Xu for analysis, but it wasn't a video or audio message, so it could take some time. But that doesn't mean that Nida was responsible. In fact, we have proof that he was not. Now stand down.”

Both Zell and Irvine looked at Squall for a moment when he spoke, looking furious and incredulous respectively. Still the gun was lowered, and Zell backed away from Seifer, hands raised as if to imply that he wasn't going to attack. Seifer didn't move though, and Nida couldn't help but look at the back of the blond, half surprised and half relieved. He didn't know what exactly he had done to deserve such a staunch defender—much less what he had done to lose such a firm friend in Irvine—but Nida was more than happy to have one of the most deadly men in Garden, no, in the world, on his side. Irvine and Zell alone would not be enough to take Seifer on in a fight, and they might need two others if Squall were to refuse to support them against Seifer. That sort of ally was something that was more than worth having.

“And how in the world do we know that, sir?” Irvine demanded.

“Simple,” Seifer said, “Nida had no way to contact anyone yesterday. Princess had his access to the network cut two days ago.”

“He's good enough to have hacked past any control programs, right?” Zell asked.

“Maybe if Xu wasn't there to back it up personally,” Nida admitted, then winced as he realized that it wasn't exactly the best thing to say if he wanted to defend his innocene.

“Which is why I had Seifer cut the physical lines into the room,” Squall said.

Nida had to admit that it made sense. If he'd been trying to cut Xu off from hacking, the ideal method he would use would be to isolate her in a place that would lack any of her back up systems, make sure she had no personal computers to route into the system, and then cut the physical lines just to be sure. Honestly, he had to give Squall credit on this one, this had been a good way to make sure they could try to get to a target without information getting out from a potential source of a leak. Then again, there was something else that Nida didn't want to think about, but had to: while this meant that he hadn't warned Lena, it also meant that someone else in Balamb probably did.

“Nida would have had no chance to alert Lena to the mission. In fact, he was the only one here that would not have done so,” Seifer said, reinforcing Nida's innocence in this while at the same time pointing out the same conclusion Nida had quickly reached on his own.

“You mean...” Zell started to speak, but stopped when Squall nodded.

“Someone sent Lena a message, hours before her disappearance and our arrival. It likely isn't a coincidence. I kept this mission isolated from everyone but Cid, the group of us, and those mechanics that prepared the Ragnarok for departure, and that last group did not know where we were bound for. Which means that if there is in fact a leak, it isn't Nida, or not only Nida. So keeping him isolated won't achieve anything,” Squall sighed.

“And how can we be sure that Seifer isn't responsible for this?” Zell demanded.

“Logic.”

Everyone's eyes, including those of Squall and Seifer, turned back to Nida at this point, waiting for him to elaborate.

“First, Seifer steps on toes, regularly and loudly. That isn't exactly material for an undercover operative, is it? Second, Seifer doesn't follow orders well, and if he had been with the Zebalgans he would have done something to fuck it up by now. Third, the last video furthers our belief that the Zebalgans hate things that have to do with Sorceresses, perhaps above everything else, so I doubt they would much like a Sorceress-Knight on their side. Fourth, do you really think that even if they could, they would have let Seifer stay in that position long before having him off the Sorceress? And finally, even if Seifer had been with them, do you think he would have stuck around after their blatant calling for his head? They've made an enemy of him, whether they know it or not, by doing that. Seifer has as much reason as the rest of us to hate this group. Hyne, Seifer would have given us everything he knew about them once that video came out, just out of spite, if he had been with them. If there is one thing you can count on Seifer being loyal to, then count on it being to his sense of self-preservation.”

“Let's not forget the fact that were I one of them, I would have had ample chance to knock you over the head and haul you back to wherever their base is long before anyone from Garden even knew,” Seifer added with a smirk.

“I don't doubt that,” Nida admitted with a sigh. “What it comes down to is that really, other than Squall and Seifer, who here can we be sure of the loyalties of?”

“No one,” came Squall's response before he turned on heel and strode silently from the hanger. The words, Nida could tell, everyone from the outspoken Irvine and Zell, to the surprisingly silent Selphie and Quistis, in a state of near shock.

“Well, Nidulus, I guess this means you can have your fork back at meal times,” Seifer quipped before turning and heading to follow Squall up to the bridge.

For some reason, that was hardly a comforting thought, especially with the way that Irvine was still looking at him. But, finding himself cleared for the moment, Nida moved to follow after Seifer and Squall. They, at least, did not seem likely to try and glare him to death, for now. After a quick jog Nida caught up to Seifer. The blond lifted an eyebrow for a moment at his appearance, but then seemed to ignore him altogether.

“Thanks. For everything. But, if you don't mind me asking, why are you defending me?”

The blond didn't even break stride, just smirked. “Because so far as I can tell, you're innocent. You're a moron, but you're innocent. You don't deserve the shit they are giving you.”

“But I do. They have no reason to trust me at this point.”

“No,” Seifer said, his voice firm and almost angry. “They wouldn't be so quick to treat you like this if what I had done during the war hadn't happened. But it did, and I did it on purpose. You, the moronic innocent, don't deserve my fallout.”

The words were nice, well reasoned, and almost comforting. It was all so uncharacteristic of Seifer that Nida found himself stopping in his tracks, not sure how to respond to it. It was almost... noble.

“Careful,” Nida said as he refound his voice and moved to follow Seifer, “You keep that sort of thing up, and people might begin to believe you are a nice guy.”

“I think that is a risk I'll just have to take,” Seifer responded before boarding the lift up to the bridge. “You coming, fucking Flyboy?”

Nida just shook his head and followed Seifer. There was, after all, always a chance Squall might just let him fly now. Everyone knew Nida was the best pilot Garden had, and what Nida had experienced on the way out here, Selphie was not number two.

That hope was rewarded moments later, when Seifer and Nida's arrival on the bridge drew Squall's attention fully upon them. From what Nida could tell, Squall had no intention of flying, which meant that they weren't going anywhere without at least Selphie arriving, and she was most likely dealing with Irvine at the moment. Squall seemed to realize this as well, and gestured for Nida to take the controls.

“Straight back to Garden. Any departures from a direct route without clearance and you won't live long enough to hear Irvine say he told me so,” Squall warned. Nida nodded and took the pilots seat silently, checking to make sure that Selphie hadn't done anything to harm his beloved on the way here.

“When we get back, you will be released to your own quarters.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“It isn't all good news,” Squall said, “so don't thank me yet. While you will be allowed to move around Garden at this point, you will have an escort when you are out of your room, guards when you are inside, and no weapons at any times you are not in my presence.”

“Good move. Keep the Flyboy safe from disgruntled students while making it look like you're protecting them from him.” There was actually a bit of approval in Seifer's voice.

“I'm glad you agree,” Squall said, smirking a bit like Seifer was prone to doing. “Because until I can determine who else would be capable of keeping him in line without risk if he did decide to escape, you're in charge of him.”

“What!” Seifer shouted, and Nida was sure that the sound had to carry all the way to the hanger.

“And how will you determine that?” Nida asked, finally having deemed the Ragnarok unharmed at the hands of the hyperactive Selphie, and setting the engines to warming up.

The smirk, still in place, was more than enough to send shivers down Nida's back.

 

* * * * *

 

The answer, as the smirk had promised, turned out to be far worse than anything Nida could imagine. In fact, the very idea of it was terrifying. Nida couldn't help the fact that his hands were sweating enough that it was hard to keep a good grip on the fauchard fork he had chosen to use against Squall's heavy gunblade. He hoped that the lance point that gave the weapon it's 'fork' designation would help. The lance point would hopefully allow him, with luck, to catch Squall's blade between it and the actual blade of the weapon, allowing Nida to disarm the skilled gunblader. Disarming Squall would be the only real way to end the battle with anything resembling victory for Nida.

Then again, did Nida really want to win? Of that, he wasn't sure.

Squall's answer to how to determine who had the combat skill to watch over Nida had been simple, and brutal. What better way for Squall to judge his ability to take out other people than to see how well Nida could handle him. And in a serious fight against Squall it would be unlikely that Nida would be able to avoid using his full strength like Elijah had for so long. Even Elijah had been forced to go seriously faced with two gunbladers.

So here Nida stood, trying to look more confident than he was, staring Squall down across the open field outside of Garden that Squall had chosen for their fight. Seifer was missing at the moment, likely off scaring off some bystanders, but once he was ready the match would begin. Apparently Seifer was there to be backup for Squall on the off chance that Nida somehow managed to take Squall down, though there was even the chance that Seifer was there to make sure Squall didn't kill Nida by mistake.

“Do we really need to do this?” Nida couldn't help but ask, shifting his stance just the slightest bit wider to better handle an initial defensive move.

“Afraid that you'll hurt him?” Seifer asked, coming back over to the pair.

“More like afraid to get hurt,” Nida admitted. “Wouldn't you be, facing someone like Squall?”

Seifer smirked, that arrogant smirk that was so one-hundred percent Seifer. “Why would I? Squall's never beat me in a one-on-one fight.”

“Any advice you can spare then?” Nida joked.

“Don't let him get close. You have the reach advantage, but if he gets close, it's over.”

Nida rolled his eyes, more thane aware that this would be a major part of the battle. He was about to say the same to Seifer, only to catch Squall out of the corner of his eye, already starting to move. He only had a handful of seconds to lash out with his fauchard-fork before Squall was inside his defenses, the seven foot long weapon easily being knocked to the side with a single swipe of Lionheart.

As quickly as he could manage, Nida swept the shaft of the weapon towards Squall, hoping that getting the gunblader to jump back a step would be all he needed to regain the vital space between him and Squall's weapon. Instead of jumping back, though, Squall raised his left arm, taking his hand off of the hilt of his weapon for a second to take the blow with his forearm. Nida actually stumbled back a step in shock. Never had he faced someone in a sparring match, even one as serious as this, who was willing to take an obvious injury to close distance. Then again, this was a bit more than a serious sparring session, wasn't it? This was practically life or death.

Nida was lucky he had stumbled back a tep, really, because as that happened Squall was bringing his right arm around, his left grabbing the hit just a moment before the blade lashed out, inches from Nida's chest. It was all Nida could do not to fall over from the shock of the near miss. And yet Squall was already pressing the advantage, making full use of the speed he specialized in.

This time, as Squall brought his blade up for a strike, Nida brought his weapon back in, forcing the blade between them. The move was just in time to be in position as the strike fell, putting Squall's blade right into the space between lance point and the blade of his weapon. A quick, sharp twist of the weapon was all it took to tug the blade away from Squall, sending the thing spinning towards Seifer. Eager to press the short advantage, and knowing Seifer would avoid the blade, Nida brought the base of the shaft up again, hoping to knock Squall off of his feet with a quick sweep.

The brunet had apparently anticipated this, though, and with a small hop avoided the attempt. And upon landing he did something Nida had not expected, bull rushed Nida. With the way that Nida's body was already twisted from the sweep, he didn't have a chance of resisting the full strength of Squall's shoulder ramming into his chest. The only reason it wasn't over then and there in Nida's own mind was the fact that more than once Elijah had pulled the same move while Nida was off-balance. Long ago Nida had been forced to learn how to turn a tackle like this into a controlled flip. As he fell he let the momentum imparted from the blow and the way his body had already been twisting to get his hands pointed towards the ground. After that it was a simple matter of timing to plat his hands, both on the shaft of his weapon at this point, on the ground and use hands and weapon as a springboard into a back flip.

Once back on his feet, Nida turned to face Squall, ready to defend himself, only to find that the gunblader hadn't followed him while he flipped, instead taking the chance to reclaim his weapon. Nida had hoped that maybe he would have made too tempting a target for Squall during the initial 'fall,' prompting the other SeeD to come after him with fists alone. No such luck. Squall apparently knew well enough from Irvine and the others that Nida was capable of turning some disadvantages into strengths. Well, at least this time Squall would have to come at Nida while he had a chance to ready himself. That alone made the whole of the exchange worthwhile, even the soreness in his chest.

“Maybe you should quit SeeD and become an acrobat!” Seifer called, a momentary distraction. Not a major one with the care Squall was now taking with his stance, but an annoyance none the less.

Nida attempted to put the blond out of his mind, keeping as much of his attention as was possible on the glowing blade of Squall's blade, and the man's stomach. Eyes could lie, so could arms and legs, but the stomach, the center of gravity, had no real way of lying. What it committed to, it followed through with. At least in terms of advancing. In close combat, with a blade far too close for his taste, Nida was horrible at watching for the minute signs the stomach gave that would sometimes telegraph a person's next move.

But all Squall's stomach was saying was that he was securing himself in one place, preparing a defense. It seemed a foolish choice to Nida. Mounting a defense was one thing if you had range advantage, but even with Squall's speed he should know that Nida could easily keep him off of the offense if Squall gave him even the slightest chance. That was the advantage of a more mid-ranged weapon like Nida's preferred polearms. Well, that and the fact that the momentum of a strike added more power to a blow, allowing even a blunt one to break bones, and the extra reach could keep him from too much damage, allowing him to intercept blows long before they reached any area of threat. So what could Squall be thinking?

_He wants to draw me out_ , Nida suddenly realized.   


That was the point, wasn't it? Squall wanted to see just what Nida was capable of. The first attack had been to see how well Nida could deal with threats in close range, like he would experience with sword fighters, gunbladers, and other quick, close quarters fighters. The tackle was likely geared at seeing how Nida could handle a more hands on method of attack, like would be expected of Zell. And now Squall was trying to present a target, trying not only to see how Nida might act when faced with a combatant that might be about to use magic, but to see how Nida would use any opportunities given to him. This, after all, was the sort of target Nida's weapon was almost ideal for, so naturally he should go at Squall with at least the abilities he was most confident with, things he would use most commonly use to dispatch an enemy at a distance. Not the risky things he would use in closer combat, things that Nida would use only in the most dire of situations because of their chances of backfiring...

_Let no one say Squall can't think on his feet_ . 

And Nida had almost fallen for it as well, saved only by the split second analysis that Elijah had beaten into him over the years.

But what to do about it? Now that he knew, should he give Squall what he wanted? Too vicious of an offense might make it look like Nida actually wanted to hurt, even kill Squall. Too cautious and both Squall and Seifer might think Nida was trying to appear worse than he was. Seifer would know better from their short tussle in in the cottage in Winhill. Squall would know from mission reports and the few practical exams that had accompanied higher level SeeD exams. Yet they wanted to know if he'd been holding something back, so maybe he should just attack.

Except it was already too late, even those few milliseconds of thought had been too much. Even as Nida decided he should at least give Squall what he wanted, the gunblader was on the move again. It wasn't so sudden that Nida couldn't attack as Squall was rushing in, but enough to make Nida realize his mistake. Not only had he given up what advantage he had, but he'd overthought. It was a rookie mistake, and in a fight like this you didn't want to overthink. You ended up second guessing yourself, like Nida just had, and with a gunblader dodging not one, but three half-hearted thrusts, that was a bad thing.. That alone was almost enough to break the calm that seemed to come with fighting for Nida.

Nida danced back a few steps upon the third missed thrust, knowing that he'd already blown the first real attack chance he'd had. The only choice now was to wait for an opening in Squall's attack. This time he wouldn't be thrown, because even though his weapon was too large for effective attacks in the closer ranges, Nida was more than capable of close range defense. It was simple enough when the polearm was between him and Squall, all he had to do was bring the shaft into the way of the blow, turning it away. And by the fourth blow his chance happened. There, as he knocked away another strike from his right, he noticed Squall's arms just a little too far away from his body. The shaft of the fauchard-fork was already in the right place for Nida to place the end of the shaft head into the ground, and as he pushed off of the ground with the weapon his left foot thrust into Squall's stomach, knocking the gunblader back a step, almost doubled over from the sudden loss of breath.

_Now or never_ . 

Nida pressed in, bringing the shaft around as he landed to thrust the blade in Squall's face. Instead of dodging back and tripping as Nida expected, Squall twisted to the side, allowing the sharp edge of the polearm to slide past his face. A simple back step found Squall safe once more, and already raising his weapon. Nida already knew what was going to happen next. While he would attempt to move his polearm away, Squall's Lionheart would come down, cutting through the shaft as if it was better. That normally wasn't a risk for Nida, but the adamantine and dragon fangs used in the forging of the Lionheart would split the strong oak of the staff as if it were balsa wood.

Sure enough the blow came as Nida was trying to swing his weapon out of the way. Squall's aim couldn't have been better, the gunblade hitting just below the langets. While not strictly the weakest part of the weapon, the metal langets were meant to protect the weak point where the shaft and head were connected, while providing extra torque. And yet, by cutting where he did, Squall was able to take advantage of the minor strain the head of the weapon placed upon the shaft.

Even as the head of the fauchard-fork fell to the ground, Squall was already sweeping the blade back up to press against the side of Nida's neck. And for some reason, it almost felt familiar. Wrong, but familiar.

“Yield.” Squall's voice was low, threatening, and Nida knew from it that the man was more than willing to take his head off if Nida refused.

That thought made Nida flinch as he realized just why this whole thing felt familiar. The dream on the Ragnarok rushed back to him, and it was too much like this. The main difference Nida could think of was not something in the fine details, but it in his own feelings. In the dream he had been ready to accept his death at Squall's hands, he'd welcomed it. Now, though, Nida was not so sure. There was a stringing in his neck now, from a shallow cut caused by the razor edge of the Lionheart when Nida had flinched against the blade. That, the heat welling up in that area from his blood, even the hard look in Squall's eyes, it all made Nida sick, like Boyce's name, like the Zebalgans, like this whole heir business, it almost made the whole idea of life more pressing, more important. Maybe he wasn't quite ready to die just yet.

“I yield,” Nida said, his voice faint and almost breaking. Probably due to the shock of the cut, and the sureness of Squall's hand despite it.

Squall nodded and lowered the weapon, but didn't back away, or even move to heal Nida's cut. Once it was clear that Squall wasn't going to kill him, for now, Nida's hands went to his throat to put pressure on the wound.

“Hyne, let me see that.”

Nida couldn't but but flinch back, not having expected Seifer to have gotten so close so quickly. But, before he knew it, the cool brush of a curative spell had replaced the sting at his neck, and Seifer was yanking Nida's hand away from his neck so that he could clean up the blood with a cloth. The whole time Seifer glared at Nida as if he had been looking at the biggest baby in the world who had just gotten their first splinter.

“Thanks,” Nida managed to say, only to have Seifer wave it away.

“Don't give me that. You did that on your own, idiot. You should know that Squall's got a steady hand. If you were cut, it was your own damn fault. Why in the world did you flinch? Did you want your throat opened on his gunblade?”

“Seifer,” Squall said, and the blond rolled his eyes.

Nida sat down with a sigh, frowning at his broken weapon. He'd really liked that one. It wasn't as beloved as some of the others, but he'd had it for a while, and it had been useful. The fauchard-fork had been his weapon of choice during the Norg incident, a lorgical one considering the number of sword fighters in the Garden, and Nida had been glad of the advantage the weapon had granted him.

“Did you really have to break it?”

“Not like you can't fix it,” Seifer said, obviously annoyed.

“I'm a mechanic, not a weapon maker.”

Seifer just shrugged. “Stop whining, you passed, didn't you?”

“Passed?”

Squall nodded in agreement with Seifer. “You over thought. You held back your blows, not because you wanted to seem weak, but because you didn't want to hurt me, or seem eager to hurt me. And while you did flinch back from the possibility of death, you said nothing and faced it anyway. You pass.”

Nida resisted the urge to point out that his lack of action had been because he'd been caught in the thoughts of the smoke dream. How many had come to pass now, in one way or another? How many times had they been right and he couldn't remember it because of a GF? And what of the others dreams, the ones that were similar but so different? The ones of the group in colored robes, the Zebalgans facing him, speaking, pondering? Who was to say they were wrong? Who was to say they hadn't come to pass? Who was to say that he wasn't the heir, and that his dreams weren't in fact the thing they wanted?

“And what does that mean for me?”

Squall looked from Nida to Seifer and back before sitting on the grass near Nida.

“It means that were we not in this situation, I would move to have you elevated to rank A before the end of the day. As things are I will have to leave you with Seifer or myself. After that it is clear I could not use anyone else, and that those who have fought you before will expect no less.”

“And I'm supposed to believe that this doesn't mean that you actually don't trust me in the slightest?”

“I trust you,” Squall said, before shaking his head. “Let's face it, you're about as likely to be one of these Zebalgans as Seifer or myself.”

“And why do you say that?”

Seifer was the one who spoke this time, though he was obviously annoyed that Nida needed someone to clarify. “You've done nothing to prove you're innocent, and plenty to prove that you aren't. Yet the second we lock you up we can't find anything, other than your own personal failures, that proves you guilty of anything other than stupidity, shock over being betrayed by a friend, and general lack of concern for your own life. Let's face it, Flyboy, your ineptitude has been your best proof of innocence for Squall here, and me... Well, I never suspected you, and for some reason that Hyne alone knows, Squall puts faith in my gut feelings.”

“I have no real way to prove your lack of guilt right now,” Squall said, ignoring Seifer's last comment. “But since Seifer also agrees with my gut feeling on this, it is clear to me that you never saw us as enemies, even when you didn't act as faithfully as you could have.”

“Still can't figure out why they want you, but hey, crazies come in all varieties,” Seifer chuckled.

“Thanks,” Nida mumbled.

“Glad to help.”

“So what now? I just go around with Seifer following me like a lost puppy or something?”

That earned a growl from Seifer, but Squall nodded.

“That is roughly the idea. There is a chance that whoever is leaking information will either try to pin it on you at this point, or far more likely, kidnap you. Thus we want you keeping your eyes open as well for behavior around you that seems out of the norm.”

“So what you're saying is that you want me to spy on people who don't even trust me anymore, and who thus are highly unlikely to treat in any way that approaches normal? You're kidding, right? I can almost tell you right now the only thing resembling what I would find out. Irvine is behaving oddly, he loathes me like he used to hate Elijah, even though we got close after I started to train him. Zell hates me, probably partially because Seifer trusts me, and partially because he might view me as a threat to Balamb, which has been through too much already. Quistis won't meet my eyes when she used to confide in me, and Selphie is at a loss for what to do because of Irvine. Xu is the only one that seems to still have faith in me, and we've known each other for longer than I've really known any of you. That is all that I'll be able to tell you.”

“None the less, I want you to watch. Do what you see fit to do this, but watch. You're not going to have many orders other than this until I find a way to deal with the suspicions of the others, and until we find the person who warned Lena... Oh, and you will have a short period of time each day with Xu working on communication analysis. That is all I can give you since I can hardly let you leave the Garden.”

Nida couldn't help but sigh at the final bit. Wouldn't he be more useful out there, where he could serve as bait for these people, for Elijah?

A beeping which set Seifer and Squall looking for their communicators interrupted any other thoughts Nida had on that subject. Squall found his first, it being easily accessible in his pocket. Upon seeing whatever message had been set, he cursed.

“What's going on?”

“The latest report regarding disappearances has come in, and some of the names...” Seifer trailed off, mumbling something under his breath.

“You're familiar with these names?” Squall asked.

“Yeah. The Instructor may suspect why they are important, but I can tell you from experience that some of these men are old retired generals who actually run the Galbadian military. Looks like the Zebalgans have people in higher places than we'd suspected.”

Even Squall cursed at that.

“It's bad, but that isn't all there is, is it?” Nida asked, certain there was something of more concern in Squall's eyes.

“No. Quistis sent me something more... There was an attack on the orphanage shortly after Lena departed from the White SeeD ship.”

“Edea!” Seifer shouted, looking about ready to punch Squall out just for saying it. Apparently something of his former Knight bond to the Sorceress still lingered.

“She's fine. So are Rinoa and Ellone, who were visiting there,” Squall said, and his voice was surprisingly level, all things considered. “The White SeeDs were called by her just in time to knock back the assault when they combined forces with the smaller contingent of Esthari troops Laguna had forced upon the Kramers.”

“Bastards,” Seifer cursed. “Where do they get off attacking Matron and Sis like that?”

“Come on,” Squall said, standing and heading towards the Garden. “We don't have time to sit around and discuss this now. We need the others.”

Nida was on his feet and following before he knew it, leaving his ruined weapon behind.


	10. Interlude 1: Coming to Balamb

Carefully Nida peered through the leaves of the shrub he was hiding behind, searching for some sign of the blond boy who he had fled to this place to avoid. When he caught no sign of the blond, or anyone else for that matter, Nida let out a relieved sigh, or at least he tried to. Instead something that started as a sigh and turned into a sob escaped despite Nida's best efforts. Even hearing the sob made Nida's eyes sting all over again, tears not threatening but promising to fall again. Quickly Nida scrunched his eyes closed, trying to use force to keep the tears back. Nida doubted it would work, but still he had to try. If he didn't then the sound of his crying would almost certainly make it easier for that horrible blond kid to find him.

Daphne wouldn't want Nida to be miserable because some mean kid thought it would be funny to tease him for crying. Besides, boys Nida's age weren't supposed to cry.

And yet the thought of Daphne brought the tears back to Nida full force, and before he could stop them the tears were flowing once more. All Nida could do was try to muffle the sound with his sleeve and try not to let the shaking of his shoulders shake the bush he was using as a hiding place.

Eleven year-olds don't cry, Nida tried to tell himself, but the words were as weak in his mind as he knew they would be from his own lips. Eleven year-olds also didn't suddenly find themselves in another country, in a place filled with almost only kids, and with mean ones who thought they had the right to tease other people for being upset, right? Well, maybe other boys his age did, but Nida didn't. He belonged in Winhill with Daphne, helping her make soup for dinner or dust the mantle over the fireplace, or fetch groceries for her, or even maybe in his bed, curled up under the blankets and reading one of the books Daphne had bought him for his birthday. More than anything, Nida was sure he didn't belong in this Balamb place, where everything was made out of cold stone and steel instead of the warm wood of the cottage.

“Hey, is there someone there?”

Nida almost choked on a sob before he slammed a hand tightly over his mouth and tried his hardest to stifle any more sounds. Unfortunately it did nothing to stop him from having the sniffles that came with crying, and when Nida tried to breathe in through his nose it came as a sniffle, a loud one too.

“Hello?” the voice came again, and Nida listened as quietly as he could, as still as he could, as the bush he hid behind started to rustle. Someone was clearly looking for him.

“I know I heard someone. Come on, I'm not in the mood for hide-and-seek.”

Then, before Nida could do anything, a head appeared to his left, peeking around the bush. All Nida could see at first was the bright red color of the person's hair and the shock in the bright blue eyes.

“Hey,” the boy said, quickly pushing his way around the bush to reach Nida, “are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”

Nida stared and shook his head as the red-haired boy squatted down beside him. Even from a single look Nida could tell that this kid was not like the blond boy that had been so mean. For one thing the red-haired boy really looked concerned, and already started to look over Nida to see if he was hurt. As soon as the boy had satisfied that curiosity he plopped down next to Nida on the ground and put an arm around Nida's shoulder.

“Don't worry, you just look like you could use a friend. So tell you what, I'll be your friend. Okay?”

Eyes wide Nida looked at the red-haired boy, stunned by how much the boy almost sounded like an adult. But from what Nida could tell the other boy couldn't be more than a year or two older than Nida was, or so he thought. In the end, though, Nida nodded.

“Good. Let's start with drying your eyes. Yeah, just use your sleeve for now, I don't have any tissues. Alright, that's good. Now, tell me what's wrong and I'll try to help, okay?”

“I... I...” Nida didn't know what to say, much less how to explain it all. What if trying to tell this other kid led to the same response as the blond kid had given? Nida wasn't quite sure if he was ready to handle that again.

The stammering didn't seem to bother the red-head though, who just smiled at Nida and said, “It's okay, take as long as you need.”

So in silence the pair sat there for a while, Nida trying to keep from crying and the red-haired boy not saying anything to force Nida to talk. At last, though, Nida found himself calm and shifting, and the red-head removed his arm from around Nida's shoulders.

“All better now?”

Nida nodded.

“Ready to talk about it?”

“There was this boy...”

There was a sigh from the other boy and a look of annoyance. “Let me guess. Blond kid, about my height, acted like he owned the place?”

For a moment Nida stared, shocked by the fact that the other boy seemed to know exactly who Nida was thinking about, even though Nida hadn't said anything.

“Yeah.”

“That would be Seifer. He's a jerk, and not that smart if you ask me. Better just to ignore him.”

“But... He said that my being here meant that my parents didn't want me.”

“Sounds like something that idiot would say. Just because no one wanted him doesn't mean that everyone here is like that. My foster father sent me here.”

“My mother died.”

Nida watched as the other boy's eyes went wide, his mouth gaping open. Then, before Nida could react, the red-haired boy was flinging his arms around Nida in a tight hug, just like Daphne used to do.

“Seifer, you stupid... I'm so sorry. I'll make him sorry to. No one... Hell, I know they used to send...”

The boy's words started to run together to the point where Nida couldn't make heads or tails of them, but the surprisingly strong arms around him were a comfort.

“Have they asked anyone to show you around yet?” the boy said as he finally released Nida a minute later.

“No,” Nida said, shaking his head.

“How about a room?”

“With the blond boy, Seifer,” Nida mumbled, and the red-head frowned.

“That really won't work,” the boy frowned. Then he stood, took Nida's hand and pulled Nida to his feet. “Come on. My roommate moved out a month ago, went home. Maybe we can get you permission to stay with me instead. Okay? I'll show you all around Garden too.”

“But,” Nida started, unsure that even trying to get the grown-ups to understand would be allowed. Yet the bright-blue eyes of the red-head shone—with determination or resolve Nida was sure—and Nida could not find it in himself to say no. “But I don't even know your name.”

That made the red-head smile.

“Well then, that is the easiest thing to fix, isn't it? My name is Zale. Elijah Zale. And you?”

“Nida Nomura.”

Elijah's smile only seemed to grow. “Well, Nida, just trust in me. I promise that I'll make things better as best I can. Okay?”

Nida could do nothing other than nod. Somehow he was sure that this Elijah, even as young as he was, would do just what he promised.


	11. Interlude 2: Protection

Nida struggled to pack up his books as quickly as possible once the bell rang to dismiss his class. Instructor Aki looked on disapprovingly, but Nida didn't care. Just like almost all of the other students in the class, Nida had been looking forward to today for the better part of the year, if not longer. Today was the day were they would finally be given their first real weapons, ones they could keep to take with them so they could practice with other students outside of classes. They still wouldn't be allowed in the training grounds for another year without an instructor with them, but this was an amazing step. Having something more than the foam practice bo that he'd been using for the last year was something Nida had looked forward to, and all morning he had been jumpy.

Granted Nida wasn't getting something exceedingly complex like some students. Apparently there was a guy in another one of the classes who was taking up a gunblade, just like that jerk Seifer who was in the same year as Nida's roommate, Elijah. Other people, though, like this kid named Zell in Nida's class, were just doing martial arts, which meant that they weren't as excited for today. Then there was this cute girl named Alana, who was getting her first sword. Sure it was going to be a blunt practice blade, but it would be hers, just like the metal and wood training bo that Nida was being given. The main thing that made Nida's interesting was that it came with a variety of polearm heads that could be screwed on so he could try out different types of polearms and pick the one that was right for him. The first thing Nida wanted to do with it was get Elijah to spar with him like Elijah had been promising. Sure they'd have to do it outside because Nida wouldn't be allowed in the training center without an instructor for another year, but Nida was looking forward to it. Trick was that having to do it outside meant that there was only about a two hour period before junior classmen were expected to stay inside of Garden for the evening.

Then again, Nida wasn't quite sure that Elijah would keep his promise. A month or so ago Nida wouldn't have doubted it, but lately Elijah had been acting oddly, almost like he was avoiding Nida. That in and of itself was pretty impressive considering they had been roommates ever since Nida's arrival in Balamb two years before. Most of the time, though, Elijah seemed to manage it by going to the training center. Not only was Elijah fourteen and allowed to make use of the center without an instructor so long as other students went with him and they didn't go too deeply into the training center, but Elijah had gotten permission to go there the year before when there had been a visiting Weapons Master taking care of the students. That year some of the thirteen year-old students had received special permission to enter the training center early, ones who were expected to take the SeeD exam with special approval at the age of fifteen, like Elijah and Seifer.

Still, Elijah had promised, and Nida had every intention of finding his friend and insisting that Elijah spar with him. Bag filled with books Nida slung it over his shoulder and rushed out of the second floor classroom, carefully not going too fast until he was out of Instructor Aki's vision before he finally started to run for the classroom where the Balamb Garden Weapon's Master waited.

 

* * * * *

 

“I'm busy,” Elijah said, not even looking up from the table and the homework set before him.

“You promised,” Nida repeated, his grip tightening around the hard wood shaft of his new weapon. “Multiple times.”

“Yeah, well that was before. How was I supposed to know that my Instructor was going to give me a paper to write?”

Nida frowned and plopped down into the other chair at the table. “Elijah... I'm sorry.”

The red-haired teen looked up from his homework, frowning himself, though his was in confusion. “For what, Nids? I'm the one that should be apologizing really, but I just can't...”

“I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you not like me anymore.”

For a moment Elijah sat there, staring at Nida with his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. When he made to speak Nida shook his head and started before Elijah could.

“I must have done something really bad to have you avoid me so much lately, but I wish you would tell me just what I did. I can't fix anything if I don't know what's wrong. And if I can't fix anything I need to know, right?”

“Nida...”

Nida didn't wait for a response, just left his new weapon leaning against the table and then fled to his room, hitting the close button on the other side of the door. Instead of going all of the way to his bed, Nida sat down with his back against the closed door. Maybe he was over reacting, but Nida couldn't be sure. In his years at Garden, Nida had yet to make many friends. Elijah, who had taken Nida under his wing on Nida's first day, had been the only one that Nida spent a lot of time with. Most of the other students had been together for years by the time Nida arrived, or showed up afterward, and it was awkward to deal with them. Things had been easier in Winhill, where the other kids Nida's age had only so many other kids to hang out with. Everyone there was friends. Garden, though, had so many people, maybe more than Winhill, and Nida still didn't know how to deal with so many people at once. Elijah was usually the one that was Nida's way to get to know people, to talk to people, to be recognized.

“Nida,” Elijah's voice came through the door along with a knocking that sent vibrations down Nida's back. “Come on, Nids, open up.”

Even though he knew Elijah wouldn't see it, Nida shook his head.

“Come on. We need to talk, okay?”

“Then talk.”

“You can't be serious. I'm not going to talk to you through a door.”

“Then you can leave me alone,” Nida responded, standing and moving to his bed so that he could stretch out, put a pillow over his head, and ignore the knocking Elijah was sure to do.

Nida had only just gotten settled in his bed when he heard the soft sigh of his door opening. Apparently Eliah's new hacking class had a practical purpose that Nida was no where near approving of. Perhaps he should tell Elijah's teachers...

“I don't hate you,” Elijah said as he sat down on the edge of Nida's bed, though Nida didn't turn to regard the other youth. “Geeze, Nida, this is way easier if you talk to me, look at me, do something.”

“You won't talk to me so why should I talk to you?”

“You sound like a child.”

“I'm a teen, it's close enough.”

“Good point. Always with the good points. You konw, it makes it hard to talk to you sometimes.”

“Instructor Aki says you could do with more people around you making good points. He says it would give you more common sense.”

“Yeah, well Aki never liked me. I am more than thankful to have been transferred to a different class.”

“It's not as fun without you,” Nida said as he turned at last to look at Elijah.

“Let's face it, I just make life more fun.”

“You did when you spent time with me.”

That got Elijah frowning again. “You know I didn't mean too...”

“If you didn't mean to then you wouldn't have. You meant to avoid me. And now you just pity me because I figured it out.”

“No. Nida, listen, if I'm avoiding you then I'm doing it for your own good.”

“How can my best friend avoiding me be any good for me? Who else can I turn to in Garden if you won't even stick by me?”

“Nida, I'm serious, what I do, I do to protect you.”

“From what?” Nida demanded, hardly believing it.

“If I told you it would defeat the point of protecting you.”

“I am a student at Balamb Garden, training to become a SeeD. If I can't protect myself then I should just give up now.”

“And where would you go?”

“I don't know. Away from people who lie as badly as you.”

“Nida...”

“Tell me, Elijah. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, I don't really doubt that. But...”

“But what?”

Elijah didn't say anything more, though Nida didn't think it was because Elijah didn't have anything else to say. There was probably lots that he wanted to say, and Nida was more sure of that than ever, mostly because of the way that Elijah's lips were pressed against his. They were warm, soft even, and gentle. Still, Nida put his hands firmly against Elijah's chest and pushed his friend away.

Nida hadn't meant to use much force, and yet the shove knocked Elijah from the bed, leaving him sprawled on the floor. As he watched, wide-eyed, Elijah started to laugh, a sorry little chuckle that sounded empty for a guy as cheerful as Elijah. For a moment Nida wanted to reach out for Elijah, to comfort him. Yet Nida could not help but remember the press of Elijah's lips on his own, and shook off the urge. His first kiss, and it had been from his best friend. His _male_ best friend. 

“See? Protecting you,” Elijah said, standing. “Just, protecting you from me is all.”

With that Elijah turned away, limping towards the through Nida's bedroom door. Apparently the fall had hurt Elijah's ankle. Nida made no comment though, didn't call out for Elijah. Instead he just watched as the door slid shut behind Elijah, torn between throwing something after the other boy, and touching his lips to try and figure out whether what had just happened had been real or not.

To be honest, Nida wasn't even sure which he would prefer.


	12. Interlude 3: A Firm Talking To

“What did you do?”

The question didn't even get Elijah to open his eyes, just earned a dismissive wave with his hand. Alana rolled her eyes, not surprised to find that the red-haired moron that was her rival for the most unfathomable reasons wasn't even willing to talk. That didn't mean she was going to back down and give in. That wasn't her way. Instead Alana moved to stand between Elijah and the sun, smirking as her shadow fell across the supposedly napping cadet's face. That, at least, got a reaction from the other sword fighter.

“Must you bug me, Alana? I was having the most wonderful dream,” Elijah mumbled, still stubbornly keeping his eyes closed.

“Oh? And what in the world does your perverted mind find to be a wonderful dream? Tormenting poor Nomura?”

That got Elijah's attention quickly enough, and for a moment Alana couldn't help but mourn the fact that there wasn't a low hanging branch directly over his head that that Elijah could have bumped on the way up. Sadly the part of the faculty that dealt with grounds did very well at keeping all of the trees properly pruned, and didn't leave any low hanging branches at all, least some fool decide to climb, then kill himself with a fall. Thus Elijah was soon sitting up, his bright blue eyes narrowed and flashing as he scooted so that his back rested against the trunk of the tree he had claimed as a napping spot in the Quad.

“Unlike some people, I would never think of harming that kid. He's too...”

“Nice?” Alana offered as Elijah trailed off, before shaking her head. “You could have fooled me. Seems like he's been pretty out of sorts for this last month. And I think it's your fault.”

“Blame the roommate. Nice, Alana. Real damn creative. Better chance it's Seifer than me. Or you, for that matter.”

“Always trying to divert the blame,” Alana sighed as she crossed her arms. For a moment she thought, then shook her head again and moved to sit next to Elijah. That, amusingly enough, seemed to make Elijah more shocked than the accusation that he did something to Nida. Interesting, and only further proof for Alana's suspicions.

“If it was Seifer, then I would have heard of you and Seifer having another one of your 'talks.' And it isn't like I've done anything lately to encourage or discourage his little crush, so it can hardly be my fault.”

“His what?” Elijah demanded, eyes wider still as he leaned in closer. It was almost enough to make Alana laugh.

Almost.

“Some best friend you are if he didn't even tell you that. And some idiot you must be if you couldn't see it. The way he looks at me when he thinks I can't see...”

“Geez, Nids, gotta pick the prickly ones, don't ya?” Elijah mumbled to himself, shaking his head.

“Prickly? Just because I can hardly stand your lazy attitude doesn't mean I'm 'prickly,' Zale. And, as cute as Nida is, I doubt it would work out between us anyway.”

“Why's that?”

“I can't stand you. He can. Proof of too extreme of a difference in personality.”

“He can't stand me either,” Elijah mumbled, perhaps thinking it too quiet for Alana to pick up, but she heard it none the less.

_So there really was more going on. Interesting._

“If he can't put up with you, it's obviously something you did. Now fess up. What the hell did you do?”

“And why the hell should you care?” Elijah snapped, jumping to his feet and glaring down at her. “Miss high and mighty wants to come down and take care of the little quiet kid. Please. You only care about your classes and your damn sword. You're almost as bad as Quistis or Squall. Hell, even Seifer has more fun than you do, and more friends might I point out. And he's an ass.”

“Did you know Nida's grades have been dropping? No? Why would you if you aren't in our class? Oh, right, you're his friend and roommate. Surely you should have noticed before a girl in his class. He's also taking rather poorly to combat classes...”

“Says the girl that started a year early,” Elijah snapped, but there was obvious concern in his eyes at Alana's revelation.

“Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that I get to watch him in combat classes. We ARE in the same class, remember? I get to see him more than you do. At least I do these days, now that you're avoiding him.”

“I am not.”

“Then why does he always seem so bummed when he watches you walk past?”

Elijah didn't meet Alana's eyes this time, but she could almost feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.

“What did you do?”

“You seem oddly concerned about a guy who you said yourself you couldn't be interested in.”

“Not couldn't. Just that I don't think it would work. But you're avoiding the question. What did you do?”

“It isn't any of your damn business.”

“Come on. It can't be as bad as either of you are treating it. It's not like you kissed the poor boy or something.”

There was no response save for Elijah's blushing, and Alana couldn't help but blush a little herself when she realized just what that meant. Elijah had... With Nida... Oh dear.

“You idiot,” she snapped, smacking Elijah a few times, and taking a bit of pleasure in the way he flinched away from her, covering his head with his hands. “You damn idiot. What were you thinking!?”

“I didn't mean to. I told him to leave it be!”

“So you kiss him when he doesn't?” Alana hissed. “No wonder he is mad at you. He must have been so confused.”

“Hardly,” Elijah said as she finally stopped hitting him. “He made it abundantly clear that he understood and wanted no part in it.”

“And have you talked to him since?”

“Whatever,” Elijah said, standing and dusting off the back of his pants. “Like you would understand.”

“I didn't realize you were such a coward,” Alana said, and smirked when she saw him freeze. Elijah was just so easy to deal with sometimes, no matter how strange the conversation.

“I'm not a coward.”

“Says the boy who is running away.” Alana shrugged and stood herself. “But you're right. What business of mine is it whether you care about Nida's feelings or not. Still, if it proves that he finally has grown up enough to see that you're hardly worth his time, maybe I should spend more time with him.”

“You said...” Elijah said, whirling on her.

“That his friendship with you was part of the problem. But if it turns out that maybe he wasn't all that much like you after all...”

“Stay away from him, Alana. He's mine.”

With that Elijah stormed off at last, and Alana couldn't help but smile. She knew where he was heading, whether he admitted it or not. If she was lucky she would see Nida acting like his old self in a few days now, once Elijah finally got the guts to stop running away from his problems. While Alana frankly didn't care about that, it did hurt her to see someone as nice as Nida hurting so pointlessly. Who knew, maybe Nida even benefited from having a friend as annoying and lazy as Elijah.

With a sigh Alana stood as well, dusted off her pants, and stretched. What she really needed right now was some more sword practice. Soon enough Elijah would be after her for a match because she had 'dared meddle in his business.' That made her smile. It was far more fun to fight with the lazy ass when he was angry than it was when he was depressed. When he was angry it was like a real fight.


	13. Chapter 9

“Is it really okay for him to be in here?”

Nida could hardly blame Quistis for the question, he'd asked himself the same thing several times on the way to the conference room, and even asked Squall once, but the question had been ignored. So, in silence, Nida had followed Squall and Seifer into the room and had taken his usual seat, despite the looks he got from some of the others at the table. He no more expected that Quistis would get an answer than he had from either of the gunbladers.

“Princess has decided I'm stuck with baby-sitting duty, but I am kind of bound to be here as well. So I brought the kid I'm watching with me. I hear that if I do a good job I might even get a tip.”

Okay, so maybe Nida would get some sort of answer, even if it wasn't the one he expected, or from the source he wanted. Then again, the look Seifer's response had put on people's faces was almost worth it.

“Don't quit your day job,” Irvine mumbled from the other side of the table, quiet enough that Nida could only barely hear the words.

“And deprive you all of my wonderful company? Hardly,” Seifer countered, apparently having less trouble than Nida, probably because he had some junction or other now that he was working with SeeD.

“I've determined that the best way to deal with Nomura is to assign Seifer to him. When not in Almasy's control, Nomura will be confined to quarters, under a lock-down, or with me. I will hear no objections to this. There are more important matters at hand...”

“Matron, Sis and Rinoa,” Zell said, shaking his head. “Fuckers shouldn't go after...”

“But they did,” Selphie cut in, her voice cold, level, and serious like Nida had only ever heard once before: upon her return to Balamb after the missile strike on Trabia Garden. “We can't do anything about what they've already done. All we can do is hope to correct their mistakes, and keep them from repeating them in the future.”

“On that note, Sorceresses Edea and Rinoa, and Miss Ellone have been moved, with the assistance of the White SeeD, to Esthar. President Loire has promised them the fullness of his protection. Headmaster Cid has put in a request for leave so that he might go and be with his wife,” Xu said, frowning over some papers. “None of them suffered any physical injuries, but both Edea and Rinoa have mentioned fatigue of their abilities through their attempts to defend themselves without harming their attackers very severely. Apparently they did not desire to worsen the feelings people harbor towards Sorceresses...”

Seifer scoffed at that, “A noble gesture, but if people were threatening their lives, they should have blown them away. So, is that all we're here for? To hear that those bastards outsmarted us, again?”

“Oooh!” Selphie said, suddenly cheerful again, bouncing around in her seat and all but flailing her arms around. “Oooh! I have news!”

“About something other than a Garden Festival?” Seifer said, only to earn a dirty look from the cheerful SeeD.

“Nope. Squall asked me to handle processing information from Trabia Garden.”

“Trabia?” Quistis asked, frowning. “What information?”

“We believe that while the first video may have been prerecorded,” Xu cut in, “the others were likely made recently. Since Boyce was most recently in Trabia and there were many visitors to the area, chances are that whoever the other people in the video are, they were in Trabia at the time of the retirement party as well. This means...”

“A recording location!” Selphie cheered. “And we found it! Well, not we as in me and other people. We as in the Trabian SeeDs. Actually it was...”

“Selphie.” The ice in Squall's voice made Selphie flinch. “Just continue with your report.”

“Right. Well we believe we found the location of the first video at the very least. There was a house that Megill owned, though in the name of his son.”

“Megill has a son?” Nida couldn't help but ask it. Nothing they had found before, at least nothing Nida had learned, indicated such a thing.

“Had,” Selphie corrected. “Apparently Megill adopted him when he was in his twenties. Unfortunately, as we all know, one of Adel's first moves before striking out against Galbadia was to take Trabia under her 'protection.' She thought that because we shared a continent she had that right. Some of those who were more outspoken about a Sorceress ruling them, even from a distance, were done away with. Thus Megill's son, daughter-in-law, and grandson were all killed. Megill himself was forced to join the military for a number of years...”

“Long and short of it is that they found something at the house,” Irvine cut in, his expression obscured by the shadow his hat cast over his face. Something told Nida, though, that he didn't want to meet Irvine's eyes just then.

“Yeah. In the basement. Tunnel leading to a small conference room, just a bit bigger than this, really. Eight chairs set in a circle, each with a light directly above it. And in the center they found this...”

From somewhere, possibly a bag at her feet, Selphie pulled out a clear plastic bag that had been taped shut, the tape initialed and dated like SeeD did when they wanted to preserve the record of a certain item. Quickly Selphie pulled a pair of latex gloves out as well, pulled the tape free, and slid the pale blue cloth inside out. Even before she spread it out, Nida knew just what it was. It was a pale blue robe, with a hood of course, made of a light cloth. It was identical to the robes the Zebalgans wore in the videos, save for the color. The color, though, was what made it stick in Nida's mind: it was the color he had been wearing in the smoke dream when he had been ringed by the Zebalgans.

“So there is a ninth one,” Seifer said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Great. Well, hopefully we can find some hair or something, learn about who was wearing this...”

“You won't find anything,” Nida said, and was almost shocked to hear the words come from his own lips.

There was silence for a moment, before Squall raised a hand, prompting Nida to continue.

“No one's worn it before. It's special, different from the others.”

“How...” Seifer started, but Nida plowed on, ignoring him.

“I don't know what the other colors are for, I can't even begin to guess. Who knows if they represent different roles, or if they are just reserved for certain people. But that color, that robe, it isn't for them. It isn't for a Zebalgan at all. That's why they left it. They knew SeeD would find it, would bring it here. Damn Megill knew that it'd make it to me.”

“You're not exactly helping your whole pleading innocent thing right now, you know that, right?” Seifer asked, and the question was oddly amusing.

“As if I'm ever going to prove enough to make everyone happy,” Nida spat. “The color of that robe is special, only to be worn by the heir.”

Nida slowly reached out, his fingers shaking, and touched the pale blue cloth. It was cool to the touch, almost a relief for how hot Nida was suddenly feeling. All of the eyes in the room were on him now, he could feel it. Slowly he pulled his fingers back and looked around, trying to read something, anything, in the faces around him. Seifer looked concerned, no, make that frustrated and concerned, but the gunblader still met his eyes. Squall seemed almost unfazed by even this, though that was no shock at all. There was something, shock, maybe fear, in Xu's eyes, and disappointment in Quistis's, as well as that calculation Nida had come to know as the woman sizing up an enemy. Zell looked angry, Selphie unsure, and Irvine... The violet eyes of the man across from Nida were a riot of emotions: fear, anger, betrayal, uncertainty, and repulsion just to name a few. With a sigh Nida looked back down at the cloth, and shook his head.

“Nida,” Xu said, reaching out as if to touch him. “How do you know this?”

Nida took a deep breath and steeled himself against whatever reactions might come next. “I have seen it before, in a dream.”

That, at least, gave a few people pause. It did not, though, stop Seifer from what was on at least his and Squall's minds.

“You said nothing about dreams before.”

“You never asked me if I had them, and I didn't think my dreams could be... Everything is vague, and they never play out the way that I see them, but I have these dreams. Smoke dreams, fog dreams. Sometimes I see a lot, sometimes a little, too little. But I've dreamt of this robe, and wearing it. Of Elijah calling me 'Great One' as I wore it, while I knelt in the middle of a circle of eight chairs, all but two of them having a robe clad person in them. Elijah stood at my side, his hand on my shoulder. I couldn't see his face because of the hood, but somehow, I could see his eyes. I would never forget his eyes...”

“When was this?” Squall demanded.

“I dozed off on the boat that took me into Winhill. One of the men tried to wake me up, and I almost broke his wrist because in the dream was I about to struggle away from Elijah.”

“Have you had others?” Xu prompted.

“The fight between Elijah, Seifer and Squall. I didn't know it was them at the time, but I was injured, just like I was during the real thing. The problem was that in the dream I wanted to protect Elijah, whereas when it really happened all I could do was watch in shock, and wish to bury Alana's blade in him. That was the morning I left for Winhill. On the Rag this morning, I dreamt of my fight with Squall, that he was going to kill me...”

“That explains why you flinched,” Seifer mumbled.

“There have been others, on and off since just before the war. I dreamt once that I died at the hands of a Galbadian soldier, but that never happened, never even faced one. I have dreamt many times of fighting against Elijah, but those I always racked up to so much training. Yet, before I left for Winhill, I told Elijah about one of the dreams, and he seemed... Oddly accepting.”

“Hyne, that's why they think you're the heir,” Quistis sighed, and Nida was almost shocked to hear such a thing from her.

“Maybe he really is this heir,” Selphie suggested, frowning.

“And you didn't think to mention this before?” Squall asked.

“Like I said, it didn't seem important. They never come true, not really...”

“Maybe because they are only possible outcomes.”

Nida frowned and turned his attention to Irvine, whose face was again obscured by his hat.

“Maybe by seeing them you become able to avoid them, or they change your perspective on things. Of course that makes the whole thing with you dreaming yourself among the Zebalgans a bit of a problem. Is it something you avoided by not going with Elijah, or something yet to come? Or maybe it's all a matter of interpretation... Tell us, Nida, have you ever had anything clearer? Some strange dream that isn't 'smoke?'”

_We shall liberate him, and in his benevolence and true to prophecy he shall guide us to the glory our people have long sought_ .

“Winhill,” Nida said after a moment, shuddering. “I had a dream that was different there, different from anything else I ever had. No smoke, no random weirdness like Selphie joining the circus...”

“Not necessarily impossible weirdness,” Seifer chuckled.

“It was clear, but I wasn't really in it. All the other dreams I'm in somehow. I always see them from my perspective, with my thoughts. That one, though... I felt like I was floating above it. There were eight people in a room, seated in a circle. A man in white, Megill, was speaking to the others. He told them that the heir was found, amid great corruption, with those who 'bend the power of the sacred guardians to their wills.' I think he was talking about Garden and GFs. He said they would liberate me, and that I would guide them to glory. His was the only voice that I could hear though, the only one that wasn't muffled. The one in red, Elijah, said something, there was a disagreement, and then all I could feel was terror.”

“Megill announcing Elijah's 'discovery' of Nida?” Quistis suggested. “Squall, if I might, I think I would like a chance to look at the schedule for Megill's retirement party, as well as any records we might have on Elijah's location at that time, and any other dignitaries or anyone on the missing persons lists who might have been there. There is a chance that, if what Nida dreamt was... well, if it really happened, Nida was dreaming it at the same time it was happening. If not, I don't think it would have been far off.”

“So you mean we might have a powerful tool for intelligence gathering in our laps, but we can't make him get the info, it might be too late to use, and we can't even be sure that he's on our side?” Zell said. “Dammit, this is stupid. We're just suddenly supposed to believe that Nida has these dreams and that they're important?”

“I believe him.”

Nida knew his jaw must have dropped with Irvine's words. Not once since Elijah's betrayal had Irvine suggested he believed Nida in any way, shape, or form. The sudden display of faith... it was as wonderful as it was unnerving.

“Irvine,” Squall said, the name more like a question than an acknowledgment.

“Sure, I wouldn't put it past Nida to lie about betraying us, but who in the world admits to dreams like that? A few weeks ago we would have sent him to Doc K, concerned that he wasn't in his right mind. Hyne, I still think that's a good idea. But while I'm not sure I can trust Nida, I've never known him to be crazy.”

“Thanks, I think,” Nida mumbled.

At last Squall nodded. “Fine. Nida, from now on you will report any dreams you have, no matter how trivial they may seem. Maybe, if you really are this heir and the Zebalgans are right about the powers that come with it, you will be of use. For now, you are to report to Doctor Kadowaki for an examination. Maybe she'll find something.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I expect you to do it now. Seifer...”

“Aw, but the fun part of the meeting is just about to begin, I can feel it.”

Nida was already rising. He had no reason to watch Seifer's little rebellion against authority, his meeting Squall's eyes to prove he could handle anything Squall could dish out. Instead, Nida made straight for the door, and wasn't surprised to find Seifer at his side before the thing could slide open all the way.

 

* * * * * *

 

“Yes, Seifer, I am well aware of what it means for you to be his guard, but that does not mean that I will allow you to sit in on his physical. You will wait on the other side of the curtain, or I will find it necessary to point out to Squall that you have not been in for a full medical work-up since nearly half a year before he gave you that scar.”

Nida couldn't help but smirk as he watched Seifer's face, eyes wide, mouth just slightly agape at the threat, disappear as Doctor Kadowaki pulled the curtain shut between herself and the gunblader. There were very few people that the older woman could not put in their place with a threat of physical exams, and apparently even Seifer didn't hold that honor. Hyne, the only reason Nida wasn't worried right now was because watching Kadowaki so easily deal with the blond had been a pure joy.

“Now, I know the reason Seifer gave me for your sudden arrival, but it can be hard to take his word at times,” Kadowaki said as she seated herself on a stool by the bed Nida sat upon. “Why are you here?”

“Because I am either crazy or possibly one of the greatest threats to freedom as we know it. Honestly, I can't help but hope for the latter.”

“Squall thinks there is some physical way for me to prove or disprove this 'heir' title you have been given? Nida, do you believe I can test for 'destiny' and 'prophecy' in a person? It doesn't show up in the eyes, the skin, the heart rate, even were we to wish for it.”

“I think I dream something of the future.”

“Explain.”

As simply as possible, Nida explained the dreams her had been having, just as he had before the group of SeeDs. The whole while he watched Kadowaki, who listened attentively without any expression. Finally, as Nida ended, Kadowaki crossed her arms across her chest and nodded.

“I see. There may just be something I can do. While I cannot test the content of your dreams, I can test your dreams themselves.”

“What does that mean?”

Kadowaki stood and pushed the curtain aside. For a moment she paused, likely to glare at Seifer from the blond's reaction, but Nida could hardly blame her. The proximity of the blond to where the curtain had been meant one thing at least: Seifer had been listening in. Though it had likely earned the blond nothing, that didn't stop Nida from being annoyed.

“So, Seifer, interested in my personal health or just watching me for Squall?”

The blond grit his teeth, knowing just as well as Nida that Squall hasn't asked such a thing, and Nida was sure that Hyne himself would walk the world again before Seifer admitted about having concern of any sort for another person. Then again, after the last week or so, Nida wasn't sure that Hyne walking the world in the next month or so wouldn't be possible.

Nida turned his attention to Kadowaki, who was half hidden in one of the metal closets near her desk. At last there was a small noise of victory, and Kadowaki's muffled voice calling for Seifer. Moments later Seifer was helping the doctor haul large pieces of equipment onto rolling carts and then pushing them over to Nida's bedside.

“What's all this?”

“With these devices,” Kadowaki said as she connected lines to machines, plugged things in, and started sticking diodes all over Nida's forehead, “I will be able to monitor the patterns of your brainwaves while you sleep. All levels of sleep, even dreaming, have characteristic patterns. I will be able to tell if you really are having dreams, or what you claim to see after you wake up are things made up afterward. I don't know whether it will be enough to satisfy Squall or not, but it is something.”

“It's not even evening yet, how are you expecting me to sleep? And who is to say that I'd have one of the smoke dreams if I could?”

“The latter I can't do anything about. The former, though... I could use a sleep spell, or if that doesn't work, I'm sure there are other methods of inducing sleep...”

“I could always knock him over the head for you,” Seifer offered with a smirk, though moments later he was flinching back as Kadowaki turned to glare at him once more.

“Seifer... If you ever threaten to harm one of my patients again in my presence, I will give you a reason to be in my gentle care for at least a month, whether Squall likes it or not.”

“Woah, woah, no need to get so hostile!” Seifer protested, raising his hands before him as if in defense. “Geez, I've never seen you so protective of someone before.”

“If memory serves,” Kadowaki said with a sigh, “you have caused severe damage to students before, and I am far from happy on that end. And so you know, when NORG tried to take over Garden, Nida was one of the few who, without hesitation, came forward to defend me as I sought to unite students on Cid's behalf.”

“Repaying your protector then?” Seifer asked.

Kadowaki nodded. “He protected me, I owe him as much.”

Nida was about to speak when Kadowaki turned towards him. For just a moment he noted the way that her hand was outstretched, a classic casting gesture, and then he felt the undeniable pull of a sleep spell, drawing his eyes closed and dragging him into the darkness of sleep.

 

* * * * * *

 

Everything was warm. The sand that he could feel beneath his boots, the sun that shone down on his skin, the clothes he wore, even the color of the setting sun that painted the seas. It fit the way Elijah looked, red against a red-yellow sea, yellow sand, pink skies. Nida, though, felt cold as he looked upon Elijah, his hand wrapped tightly around the haft of his halberd.

“You were right,” Nida heard Seifer's voice all but whisper from behind him, but Nida ignored it. “I guess this means...”

“Elijah,” Nida said, sighing and taking a step forward, his mind focused as much on the man as on his weapon.

“I knew you'd come for me. No, that's not right. I knew you'd come to me. It took a lot to convince Boyce to allow me to join the attack here. His goal was to call you out, despite SeeD. He succeeded in that, but nothing he could do would win you, right?”

“I'm not here to talk.”

“You're here to protect them? They aren't worth your time. You belong with us.”

“Aren't worth my time? They are my friends. They were Daphne's family. They are my people. I won't let you harm a single one of them.”

“And who will stop us?”

Nida raised the halberd before himself, gripping it tightly.

“I will.”


	14. Chapter 10

“...signs of dreaming at all. I want to run the data past Odine, he might be able to tell us more. For now, though, I think it is best to monitor him while he sleeps, to gather more...”

“He isn't going to like that.”

“He doesn't have to.”

It was the kind of wake-up call that Nida couldn't stand: too many voices and all of them spewing nonsense. All it made Nida want to do was roll back over, bury his head in his pillow and go back to sleep. No number of dreams, be they smoky or crystal clear, was worth listening to Kadowaki, Seifer and Squall discussing something in his...

 _I'm not in my room_.

The realization was almost as bad as the babbling, because it brought back to mind where he was and why. Kadowaki had wanted to monitor him while he slept, and now she was clearly reporting on it to Squall. The idea that she wanted Odine's input on it was hardly something Nida liked the sound of, but he did like it more than the prospect of talking about his dream to Squall, as he no doubt would have to in a matter of moments. It had been so different from the others, save for the one where he had dreamt he watched over a meeting of the Zebalgans.

His biggest question, though, was just what a dream that clear was supposed to mean? It was obviously not something that had already happened, so did that mean that it might? Or was it something that was certain?

“It's going to be hard for Nida to trust you, Squall, if you have him monitored even in his sleep,” Seifer sighed.

“That is my problem, not yours.”

“You could always ask for my opinion on it all,” Nida groaned from the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“You're awake,” Seifer said, and he sounded almost shocked.

“You're stating the obvious,” Nida countered, still taking relief in the way that his arm blocked the light from his eyes.

“We weren't expecting it for another hour or so,” Kadowaki offered, and Nida heard her move to his side. It wasn't long at all before she had pulled his arm from his face, wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm, and started to pump it full of air. “You were gritting your teeth and all but thrashing around, so Seifer used a stronger sleep spell upon you.”

“Some dreams are too hard to stay asleep during,” Nida sighed, at last pushing himself into a sitting position. Quickly he took stock of the situation around him.

The room was only slightly darker than it had been, so Nida hadn't been asleep long. Yet Squall's presence wasn't something Nida had been expecting. Apparently whatever Kadowaki had been referencing when Nida woke up had been enough for the doctor to summon Squall to give him information immediately. Squall's expression was unreadable, but Nida could see something that might have been concern on Seifer's and Kadowaki's faces.

“What happened? I assume you found something of interest,” Nida asked as Kadowaki looked closely at the blood pressure cuff and jotted a number down on a nearby chart that had not been there when Nida had been conned into sleep.

“I suppose I should ask you first,” Kadowaki countered. “Did you dream?”

Nida nodded. “Not a smoke dream though. It was clearer, real, vivid, as if I was really there. Almost like the dream I told you about in the conference room earlier, but different as well...”

“Different how?” Squall prompted.

“I was on a beach,” Nida sighed, calling the dream back to mind. He could still feel the warmth of the sand under his feet, the sun on his cheeks, the odd feeling in his chest. “On a beach at sunset. Elijah was there, looking out at sea. He told me that he had convinced Megill to let him join the attack, so that I would come for him. Elijah said I belonged with them, not protecting the village...”

Winhill, that he would not protect Winhill. How could Elijah, even in his dreams, think that of Nida. Elijah had always known how important the place was to him. It was all he had ever known before coming to Garden, it was his refuge, his joy, his pride. The only think he would put before the safety of Winhill would be the safety of Garden.

“I said I would stop him. That I wouldn't let him hurt anyone in the village.”

“What village?”

“Winhill, I think.”

That, at least, really got Squall's attention. Whatever it was in Squall that kept him calm, broke down a little bit at the idea of Winhill under attack, just as it had with the attack on the orphanage. Maybe, Nida thought, it had to do with the village being the place where the mother Squall had never known had lived. Or maybe it was the fact that the place was so calm, so quiet, so removed from the conflicts of the world. For war to come to a place like that was something that was all but unimaginable.

“We can dispatch SeeDs there to assist Esthar's forces,” Seifer suggested, and Squall nodded.

“A small group of the higher trained ones, possibly with a senior level SeeD like Irvine or Zell to assist,” Squall agreed.

“Why?” Nida asked. “This isn't like the last clear dream. It can't have happened, I've never encountered Elijah on the beach before, he's never been to Winhill save for once...”

“If we are going to believe that any of your dreams are real, there is no reason to just pass over this one,” Squall said, “Especially if it gives us an edge on figuring out the next move of the Zebalgans.”

“Except we don't know if it's going to happen tomorrow or next week,” Seifer pointed out. “Hyne, we don't even known if it's going to happen at all. This could just be a normal dream.”

“I'm not running that risk,” Squall said.

“I don't understand...”

“Nida,” Kadowaki said, her voice calm, almost soothing even. “You weren't dreaming.”

“What do you mean?”

“The brainwaves you displayed while you were asleep... At first they were normal, following what would be expected of someone passing through the sleep phases towards REM sleep, the period in which dreaming takes place. The problem is that you never made it to REM sleep. For a moment your vital signs flickered, and then there were patterns in your brainwaves I'd never seen before. Those, I believe, corresponded to what you perceived as dreaming. You really do seem to be experiencing something different from what other people do when they sleep. I cannot be sure of this until I gain more data, and would like to monitor your sleep for the next few days. Hopefully we will be able to figure out if there is a correspondence between these patterns and when you have these 'prophetic dreams.' I would also like to have Odine examine the information as well...”

“So you're saying that we might actually have proof that I'm seeing things?” Nida asked.

“That is possible. I won't be sure without more information. I would ask that you come here every night to sleep and be monitored.”

“It will be done in his room,” Squall corrected the doctor. “You will move your equipment after the underclassmen curfew. Seifer and Nida will assist you. I will expect a report in the morning.”

“Squall, I would prefer...”

“You may prefer all you want, but you will do as said. That is an order.”

Kadowaki looked about ready to smack Squall, but at least she nodded and turned her attention back to Nida, starting at last to pull the monitor devices from Nida. “As you command.”

And that, it seemed, was that. Squall turned quickly on his heels and strode out of the infirmary, probably well aware that he was now on Kadowaki's list. Were he in Squall's shoes, Nida too would have run rather than give the doctor a chance to avenge herself quickly.

“Well, this wasn't the way I expected the day to go,” Seifer said at last, flopping down into a chair Kadowaki had apparently given him while Nida had slept. “But things never seem to.”

“You're telling me,” Nida sighed as Kadowaki finished what she was doing and stood.

“Well, I'm quite sure that you boys have nothing better to do than commiserate, but I want to see to encrypting this data for passing to Odine. Nida, you may have use of that bed until you feel ready to leave. And don't worry, if Squall wants you before then, then I will deal with him.”

Nida smiled and nodded, and after a moment Kadowaki turned away and slipped out of the Infirmary, likely to find Xu to deal with encrypting the data she had acquired. With a sigh Nida turned his attention to where Seifer was seated, frowning and thinking about something he had heard in his dream.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Seifer demanded after a few minutes of Nida's staring.

“You were in my dream as well. You were there with me, and you said something to me.”

Seifer raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Oh? And what in the world did dream me have to offer?”

“You told me I was right, and said that you thought it meant something. I cut you off though, before you could.”

“You should have let me talk, then. I'm always full of amazing insights and information.”

Nida rolled his eyes, “Yeah, like Selphie knows all about the breeding habits of Ochus? Sometimes, Seifer, whatever you've got to say isn't necessarily something other people want to hear.”

“Breeding habits of Ochus? Damn, I thought she was crazy before...”

“Seifer, this is going to sound stupid, and crazy, but bear with me, alright?”

“Honestly, Nids, I don't think anything you said to me before hasn't been 'stupid and crazy.' Give me some credit, I'll hear you out.”

Easy for Seifer to say, Nida couldn't help but think. After all, Seifer had no clue what Nida was going to say next, and even Nida was already starting to think it wasn't the greatest of ideas.

“Take me to Winhill.”

“I stand corrected.”

“I'm serious, Seifer,” Nida sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I don't know if that dream was true or not, but I know that the only way we'll be able to find out is if I'm there. I'm going to Winhill, I'll find a way with or without your help. And something tells me that you'll be there too. Whether it's because you went with me, following Squall's orders to the letter, or it is because you have to fetch me back because you didn't, that is up to you.”

“What do you mean, 'following Squall's orders to the letter?'”

That made Nida smile the littlest bit, knowing that with that very question Nida had likely won Seifer over. “Squall said that you're supposed to watch over me, not for my sake but for appearances. He also said that I was not to leave Garden without someone to accompany me. You could obey both of those orders, and still help me.”

“Help you do what?”

“Stop Elijah from harming Winhill.”

 

* * * * * *

 

“This is crazy. And stupid,” Seifer grumbled as he tossed his bag into the back of the two-man flier.

“You've said that three times in the last twenty minutes,” Nida pointed out as he mentally ran through a pre-flight checklist.

“Yeah, and I'm going to say it another five times if you don't shut up,” was the response as Seifer hauled himself into the seat behind Nida's. “Squall is going to kill us.”

Nida tapped the fuel gauge twice, just to make sure that it was displaying accurately, then twisted in his seat to look at Seifer. “You can still call this off. Right now, say the words, and I'll climb out of this flier and we won't talk about this again.”

“You're kidding, right? Nidulus, if I was going to back out of this, I would have done it before I even agreed to help you. I just want to point out that this is both stupid and crazy.”

“Make that four times in twenty minutes,” Nida sighed as he turned back and finished off the last few parts of the checklist. At last he flipped the ignition switch, and smiled as he heard the engines come to life on either side of the flier. “Last chance, Seifer...”

“Just shut up and fly this damn thing before someone figures out what we're up to.”

“One thing first... Seifer, why are you doing this? I can hardly understand just why I'm doing this, and it was my dream. You, why should you believe any of it?”

That got a chuckle from the blond. “Nida, there are things you learn as the Sorceress Knight to people like Edea and Ultimecia, things that normal people can hardly begin to imagine.”

“Such as?”

For a moment Seifer was silent, and Nida even began to think that Seifer wasn't going to answer. Then, as Nida was finally guiding the flier forward, Seifer spoke.

“The crystal pillar, the lizards that Edea awoke from stone in Deling, and those don't even begin to scratch the surface. Have you ever seen a Sorceress working the darker magics? There are spells that could make your skin crawl, make you doubt gravity, make you question everything. With stuff like that in existence, the idea of dreams coming true isn't impossible. Figure I better give it a chance, right?”

Nida just shook his head and continued to guide the flier out of the hanger and out into the field. From there it was a simple matter, almost reflex, to get the flier into the air. It wouldn't be long after that, though, that the calls would start, demanding questions from the Garden. Who was flying? Where were they heading? Who gave them clearance? No one was going to like the answers to those questions, not in the slightest. There was even a chance that they might be shot down.

“Seifer, no matter what happens with all of this... Thanks for doing this.”

“Just shut up and fly, Nida. I still haven't finished telling you how stupid and crazy this plan of yours is.”

It only took three minutes for the radio to crackle to life, more time than Nida would have hoped for. Apparently those mechanics Seifer had scared off had taken their time returning, and even on figuring out that a flier was missing.

“Seifer,” a voice, Squall's, crackled over the radio, “I thought I told you to watch Nida.”

Nida gestured for Seifer, trying to indicate where the radio mic was in the back. There was a short pause, and then Nida heard Seifer's response, and was unable to help but chuckle because of it.

“I am. He's got this stupid whorl in his hair, clockwise if you'd like to know.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I'm watching him. He hasn't left Garden unattended or without permission.”

“That was supposed to be without my permission.”

“You never said that.”

There was a silence on the other line, and Nida was certain that it came from Squall glaring, angrily, at the radio before him. That got a chuckle from Seifer.

“Where are you?”

“In a flier.”

“Where are you going?”

“To whatever spot Nida decides to land us.”

“Dammit, Seifer, must you be so stupid?”

“That's the same thing I've asked of Nida so many times.”

“I think I have to agree with Squall on this one,” Nida mumbled.

That earned Nida a smack on the head, but he still smiled at it.

“Come back to Garden. Now,” Squall said, and there was that hard to deny demanding quality. It was all Nida could do to keep his attention on the course he had already selected, rather than turning around.

“Sir, permission to speak frankly?”

“Do you do anything else?” Squall asked.

“No fucking chance in hell are we coming back.”

Nida took that as a sign and flipped off the radio.

“He's going to kill me for this,” Seifer said with a sigh.

“Maybe,” Nida agreed. “But look at it this way... He'll kill me first.”

That made Seifer laugh.

 

* * * * * *

 

Coming up with a way to hide the flier outside of Winhill was the first problem. Other than the village itself, there was little more between the sea and mountains than plains, and none would serve to hide the flier long, especially if not only the Esthari soldiers that Laguna had assigned were good at their work, but if there were Zebalgans as well. They, Nida expected, were likely hiding in the mountains, and would easily see the flier now that it had arrived. In the end all Nida could do was set the aircraft down between two taller hills, where it would not be seen from the village.

“This is...” Seifer started to say, but Nida quickly cut him off.

“There is a toolkit in front of you, under the pilot's seat. Bring that with you when you get out.”

“What are you planning?”

“If I can't hide this thing, I might as well disable it,” Nida said as he released the seal on the cockpit's glass and pushed it up and away from them.

Unlike Seifer, it only took Nida a matter of seconds to unbuckle himself and jump from the cockpit. This was, after all, something that Nida was used to, and something Seifer was not. Soon enough, though, Seifer was following him down, two duffel bags thrown out before him, and the toolkit in hands as the blond landed beside Nida on the grass.

“So, just how disabled are we talking about here?” Seifer asked as he handed over the metal box.

“Don't plan on leaving quickly if we have a mob on our heels,” Nida answered as he pulled out some tools, slid them into his belt, and opened an access panel on the nose of the flier.

“What about calling for backup?”

“Not a chance,” Nida said. The first thing he intended to take out was the radio, and then the transponder. Both of those he could restore on his own easily enough, but without them no one was likely to be taking this thing back to Garden, not if they didn't want to be shot down by any country they flew through, not to mention by the Garden itself.

“Stupid and crazy,” Seifer mumbled for the... Well, honestly, Nida wasn't sure how many times it had been anymore. He'd lost count about thirty minutes after the first one, and the number had reached into the teens.

“You're welcome,” Nida responded cheerfully as he worked, loosening bolts here, cutting wires there, disconnecting systems all over the place. All in all he planned to make the flier damn near unflyable by anyone but himself. That would be the only way to make sure the thing had a chance of being there when Nida finished with whatever it was he had come to Winhill to do. Enemies weren't as likely to blow something up if it was this messed up on the inside.

“So what in the world are you looking for here?” Seifer asked, though his voice was a little muffled to Nida considering Nida's head was well within the flier's guts.

“To be honest? I'm not sure. Any sign of the Zebalgans? Elijah maybe...”

That, though, would wait for sunset. There was still ample time before that. It would, hopefully, give Nida a chance to slip into the village, listen for any rumors of strangers in the area. The Esthari likely wouldn't be seen by the villagers, not with the cloaking tech they would likely employ in this situation. Zebalgans, though... Who knew?

“You are dismantling the flier, you don't have a plan, _and_ you've likely managed to get Squall to want my head on a platter for all of that? Wonderful day we're having here, isn't it?”

“Never even pretended to have a plan beyond getting here,” Nida said, finally hauling himself out of the flier's guts so that he could look at Seifer. “All I said was that I was going to stop Elijah from hurting Winhill. Never said I knew how to do it.”

“Stu...”

“Just throw me a towel, would you? I'm covered in grease.”

Nida was lucky enough to get his arms up in time to catch the hand towel Seifer whipped at him, and Nida chuckled. Really, he thought as he cleaned his hands, still chuckling, there wasn't a better way to deal with this. Either he was going to be proven right in his own way—both raising suspicions about him and his role, and hopefully lowering them as well—or Squall was going to have his head. Actually, that latter part might happen anyway, but that was a risk Nida was willing to take. The best part was that at least he didn't have to do it alone. Never in a million years would anyone be able to get Squall to believe Seifer came along due to anything other than Seifer's own choosing.

“If this takes a while,” Nida said once he had finished wiping his hands, “we'll stay the night at my place.”

“Wouldn't that make us easy to find?”

“Hardly. No one at Garden knows where it is, and when I came here with Elijah, we stayed at the inn.”

“The villagers...”

“Will say nothing,” Nida assured Seifer as he slammed the access panel closed, and then moved to grab his duffel bag from Seifer. “All I have to do is tell anyone I see that I'm hiding out from an old girlfriend, one who was more than just the slightest bit obsessive, which is a bad thing on a SeeD. It will be easier to get my house's location from a rock than from anyone at that point.”

“Small towns,” Seifer said, something akin to awe in his voice. “Still, you think that's going to be enough to stop anyone who is really looking for you?”

“Anyone looking for me that hard will still have to go through two SeeDs to get me,” Nida reminded Seifer as he moved to open the small cargo hold on the flier where their weapons had been stowed for the purpose of the flight.

“And you really think I'm going to risk my neck to save yours?”

Nida froze, his hand only just wrapped around the wooden shaft of his halberd. This whole time he had just assumed that if there was trouble, Seifer would be there to help him. Odd, when had he started to put such a level of faith into the gunblader? Maybe it was the way that Seifer had been all but on his side since the beginning of this. Maybe it was Nida assuming that Seifer would listen to Squall's all but direct order to protect Nida. Maybe it was some misguided belief that Seifer wasn't the kind of man to let a fight pass him by, especially if he had good reason to be in it. Now, though, all Nida could do was question just what had made him think all of this, and whether Seifer really would be there if Nida needed him.

“You okay, flyboy?” Seifer asked, and Nida resisted the urge to turn and face him. Doing so might only reveal the doubt that had sprung up in him.

“Yeah,” Nida said after a minute, putting a smile back on before grabbing his halberd in one hand, the Hyperion in the other, and turning to pull them free of the ship.

“Be careful with that!” came Seifer's voice, and a moment later he was at Nida's side, freeing Hyperion from his grasp.

Well, one thing was sure: Seifer was protective of the blade. All Nida would need do to protect himself would be to get someone to threaten Hyperion. That, at least, was something.

“We should get going. I haven't really had much of a chance to eat today, and if we get there in time, I'm sure that someone I know will be willing to offer us some lunch.”

The idea of food must have done it for Seifer, because the blond smiled, slid Hyperion into its holster, and started off in the direction of Winhill without even waiting for Nida.


	15. Chapter 11

“Nida!”

They hadn't even been in Winhill for two minutes before the shout came, as it always did. Sometimes Nida arranged his trips to the village, as he had the most recent one, to avoid this very thing. Yet this visit he meant to be seen, meant to have a chance to find out a few things, and so he had strode into the village and waited for the shout.

“And you're telling me that outsiders aren't going to know we're here after that?” Seifer said, and Nida just had to chuckle.

“I must warn you, Ariel is a bit excitable,” Nida said, but that was all the warning he could manage before the young woman that went with the shouting voice appeared. Nida had just enough time to brace himself before a pair of arms were thrown around his neck, and Nida was pulled into an almost bone-breaking embrace.

“Nida! You're here! And you didn't tell anyone you were coming. That's just mean! How are we supposed to celebrate your return if you never tell us you're coming?” the young woman asked, a playful pout on her face, though it did not touch the obvious smile in her bright green eyes.

“Ariel,” Nida gasped, as best he could, “air...”

“Oops!”

Immediately Ariel released Nida, and he took the chance to draw in a full breath. One of these days, Nida always told himself, he was going to get the better of the hugs Ariel loved to give, but apparently today was not that day.

“You've gotten bigger. And more beautiful. Your mother must have to beat the boys away with a stick,” Nida said at last as he looked at her. The words were true, maybe more so than Nida hinted. Her brown hair had grown longer and now framed her face beautifully, and at last Ariel had seemed to have grown into her body, no longer seeming as awkward on her long legs as she had before the war.

“That's Jema's job now,” Ariel said, her grin only growing.

“So the fool finally got the courage to try to woo you?” Nida asked.

“Only after Tiran told me that Jema liked me.”

For a while Nida joined Ariel in her laughter, only to be cut off by the sound of Seifer clearing his throat. Ariel's laughter stopped abruptly, and she turned her attention towards Seifer, frowning slightly. It was almost amusing to watch her try to size Seifer up, and even funnier to watch the way that Seifer almost squirmed under the intensity of Ariel's curious gaze.

“Seifer, this is Ariel, an old and dear friend of mine.”

Ariel contemplated this for a minute, and then held out her hand to Seifer, which the blond promptly took and placed a kiss on the back of. That, of course, started a new fit of giggles in Ariel.

“It is a pleasure,” Seifer said, the most charming of his smiles coming into play. Just seeing Seifer turn that look on Ariel almost made Nida want to smack him.

“Your friend's quite the charmer, Nida,” Ariel said, finally withdrawing her hand. “Better not let Jema see that. He might try to 'defend my honor' or some such nonsense. And from the look of it, he wouldn't have a chance against your friend. Another SeeD, I presume.”

“Of course. And don't worry, Seifer wouldn't do something to cause you problems.”

“I'm surprised, though,” Ariel confessed. “Last time you visited, it was with that charming red-head. What was his name? Emile?”

“Elijah,” Nida corrected, “and I'd rather not talk about it.”

“Ah... I'm sorry.”

“Not as much as me. But it's in the past.”

“Right. Well, what brings you to Winhill, then? Just another visit?”

“Actually, I'm kinda trying to avoid someone.”

“Oh? That sounds interesting. Tell me _all_ about it.”

“Fat chance, you gossiper.” The words made Ariel pout, just as Nida had known they were. Good, if she thought she shouldn't talk about it and still pried it from Nida, she was certain to spread it far and fast to the other villagers, though in a watered down version. “Well... You see, I just got out of a relationship with this girl. She's been, shall we say, a little too persistent since I broke it off...”

“You've got someone stalking you? Interesting. Well, worry not, I'll make sure no one tells any outsiders they might see that you're here. Okay?”

“You're the best Ariel.”

“You say that now, but you might not mean it in a few minutes.”

“Oh?” Nida couldn't help but ask, though he thought he knew why.

“Yeah. It's almost lunch time. And you  _know_ I have to haul you home with me or mother will get quite mad. So you've got to come to lunch at home.”

“Why's that such a bad thing?” Seifer asked. “We haven't eaten in a while...”

“Yeah, well you won't have to for quite a while afterward,” Ariel chuckled.

“Ariel's mother believes that if you haven't had three square meals before one o'clock then you're underfed. Sometimes I think it's a wonder that her and Ariel are always so thin. Last time I visited Winhill for a weekend I almost picked up a whole twenty pounds.”

“That's because you don't work out enough,” Ariel said as she wrapped herself around one of Nida's arms. “Come on, you know she'll only be worse if she finds out later that you didn't eat with us.”

Nida heard Seifer start to laugh as Nida found himself pulled in the general direction of Ariel's home. The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that Nida knew just what they were in for, and he was sure Seifer wasn't likely to enjoy it as much as he thought.

 

* * * * * *

 

“I couldn't handle another bite,” Seifer said, raising his hands protectively over his plate.

“Nonsense!” was the response from Gail, Ariel's mother, who was all but threatening Seifer with another plate of pasta. “You're nothing but skin and bones!”

“And muscle, and arrogance, and attitude,” Nida chuckled, earning himself a dirty look.

“You're not helping,” Seifer growled.

“He never does,” Ariel helpfully offered.

“Gail,” Nida said, knowing that the older woman insisted on going by her first name only, “to be honest, I could really go for a good cup of tea.”

At the suggestion the woman beamed, and without another word she flowed off into the kitchen. The relief was only a temporary thing, as it took only a minute for Gail to return with her best teapot, sugar, cream, and four cups on a tray. Soon Nida found himself sipping some of Gail's homemade spiced blossom tea. It had been too long, in his opinion, since he had the pleasure of a cup, and he added only the slightest bit of cream to cool it. Nida closed his eyes as he savored the flavor, that of flower fields and rich spice, the taste of living in Winhill.

“This is good,” Seifer said, pulling Nida from his blissful enjoyment of his own cup. “Where can I get some of this?”

“No where but this fine lady's kitchen,” Nida said, setting his cup down for a minute. “I've been asking Gail since I first arrived at Garden to allow me a portion of her stock. She makes this herself, and it's the best tea I've ever had. Sadly she chooses to use it as a way to lure me home once in a while instead.”

“If you had it with you at your Garden, you'd never come and visit,” Gail said, smiling at the compliment to her tea.

“Except every time he ran out he'd have to visit,” Ariel pointed out. “And knowing Nida, he'd happily have two cups a day.”

“Absolutely. I'd have to beg Squall for some time off once every other month so I could fetch more.”

“And how is Raine's son?” Gail asked, opening the conversation at last to the gossip Nida wanted. Gail never spread news without good tea, and Ariel was always more chatty when she had some of Gail's tea in her belly.

“Relatively fine, as ever. I can't get enough out of him to learn much of anything, though,” Nida admitted after another sip.

“Stressed,” Seifer offered. “Damn fool should take some time off, but you know he never would on his own.”

“He should come here,” Ariel suggested. “The villagers would love him, I know it.”

“We were hardly overtly kind to him when he was here during the war,” Gail pointed out. “The poor boy probably thinks we have no fondness for him.”

“You didn't know who he was,” Nida said, trying to comfort her. “Winhill is understandably cautious of outsiders, and something I am happy of. The fact that it took so long for Seifer here even to find out that there was a cottage he could stay in...”

“Oh dear,” Ariel cut in, “someone suggested he stay at your cottage? That is hardly appropriate. We should have asked...”

Nida rose and hand and shook his head. “Don't worry. As I said earlier, Seifer's an old friend from Garden. I would have allowed him to stay if I knew he was in the area.”

“Why didn't you?” Gail probed, and Nida just smiled in response.

“I'm a private kind of guy,” Seifer said, half smiling.

“Ah, I see. Not unlike the other visitors to Winhill recently,” Ariel said.

“Other visitors?” Nida asked, sipping his tea and feigning indifference. It was hard to do, though, and there was no way to be sure that the women didn't see right through him. They had known him so long, and the fact that he had come for this information must have made him more transparent than normal.

And yet, Ariel just sighed, sipped her own tea, and spoke. “There are two people staying at the mayor's house. A young man, just a bit older than me, and a woman about the same age. Guests of Andria apparently.”

“Andria?” Nida asked. The idea of the mayor's wife knowing people from outside of Winhill was odd. And if they were visiting her and claiming to be guests, they were most definitely not Esthari officials sharing their concerns with the mayor.

“What makes them odd, though,” Gail said, leaning in conspiratorially, “is that Andria says that the young man is her cousin...”

Nida glanced at Seifer and felt the urge to smile at the confused look on the man's face.

“Andria has told us all, many times over, that she has no family. So someone she's suddenly claiming as a cousin is quite odd indeed.”

“What's more,” came Ariel's voice, “his arrival coming  _so_ close after her recent trip... Let's hope the mayor isn't so blind as to not notice this.”

“An affair?” Seifer suggested, though Nida was sure that Seifer's thoughts had turned the same was as his own.

“So what does this mystery cousin look like? I would like to know so if I see him in town...”

Nida trailed off there, more than willing to let Ariel and Gail fill in whatever ideas they wanted to there. Still, he was worried, both hoping for and against the description of a man with hair like blood...

“Blue eyes, short black hair, about your height, Nida. Galbadian I think. He says his name is Joshua, and he is about your height.”

So not Elijah then... Not that Ariel wouldn't recognize him anyway.

“Interesting. So Andria's met herself a young Galbadian man?”

“Not just that,” Gail said, smiling, “He's apparently a SeeD from Galbadia Garden.”

Nida all but froze with his cup of tea halfway to his mouth. “Galbadia Garden you say?”

Ariel nodded, “And the girl with him, brown hair and eyes in case you're wondering, she said she knew SeeDs as well. Told me that she knew you.”

“Did she happen to share her name?” Seifer said, not even bothering to hide his near excitement.

“Lena.”

As calmly as possible, Nida set his tea cup aside, turned his gaze on Seifer, and shook his head. Then he turned his attention back towards Ariel and Gail.

“Ladies, you must forgive me, but I am a bit tired from the journey here. I was thinking that I would head back to the cottage and recover a bit.”

“You will join us for dinner, will you not?” Ariel asked.

“We'll try,” Nida said, though he wasn't sure he was going to be able to keep that promise. Right now he had thinking to do, and a possible date to keep at the beach at sunset.

“So long as you promise not to try and make my stomach explode again,” Seifer agreed, smiling his most charming smile.

“I can't make any promises there,” Gail said. “Tonight is pork chops, and I have enough extra for you.”

“See you this evening,” Nida said, finishing his tea and standing. After a moment Seifer joined him, pausing for just long enough to kiss the hands of both of the women before following Nida to the door.

“What was that look for?” Seifer asked once they had left the house. “It's not so strange for a SeeD to be stationed here, is it?”

“It wouldn't be if the last one hadn't just finished his rotation, and Squall hadn't withdrawn any other SeeDs, remember? What's more, Joshua is a high level Galbadian SeeD, still below me, but he's still strong and influential. There is a good chance he's Zebalgan.”

“Just because he's with Lena?”

Nida shook his head, “I can easily assume that Joshua wasn't on any of the missing person reports, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Joshua has the authority to slip out for a while and have no one say anything about that. Combine that with a lack of permission from Squall for him to be here, Lena's presence, and Andria's apparently 'vacation' at what might have been just the right time to have been Megill's retirement party...”

“Shit,” Seifer said.

“I can't help but agree. Come on, I want to get to the cottage before anyone else sees us in the streets. Gail and Ariel are going to be focused on cooking and trying to figure out just what it means for you to be with me after me ending not one, but two relationships. But if anyone else sees us, word might get back to Andria.”

“Do you really think...”

Nida didn't have to hear the end of the question to know his answer. “I never expected someone in Winhill to be with them, but I cannot ignore Andria in this situation. I would rather she just happened to take a vacation on coincidence and hope that the Zebalgans are trying to put pressure on her. But something tells me that isn't true. Something in me right now thinks she might have been one of the people in the first video.”

“Nothing like having one of your commanders in a town to make sure that SeeDs aren't getting involved,” Seifer sighed.

“It's something I'd do if I could.”

“Me too.”

“Come on, I've got some stuff to pick up at the cottage before sundown.”

“Why? What's happening at sundown?”

“We're heading to the beach.”

 

* * * * * *

 

One thing that Nida had picked up from being a SeeD was the idea of keeping stashes of weapons and healing items wherever he could. Daphne's cottage had been no different. Seifer hadn't lived there long enough to find any of the stashes Nida kept: not the extra bo under the bed; the pouch of potions hidden under a loose stone in the kitchen; not even the handful of spell stones Nida had kept buried in a basket of decorative wax fruit in the living room. All of these joined the supplies Nida and Seifer had managed to gather before leaving Garden. Well, most of the spell stones, plus the few Seifer had acquired from Selphie, went to Nida. Unlike Seifer, he was unjunctioned, unable to cast, and in need of the extra support. They spent what time remained after that sharpening the blades of their weapons and gearing up for what battle they might face.

They left before sundown, hiking for the place on the beach Nida had shown Elijah the last time they had come to Winhill together. The walk was quiet and long, Nida had preferred to be away from the village when he was with Elijah, not wanting to be judged because of his relationship.

Soon, too soon, they were coming up on the spot, and a chill started to fill Nida's heart. Everything around him was warm, from the sand under his feet, to the sun on his skin. And the closer he got, the more clear a silhouette on the beach became, resolving into the sight Nida had expected and feared. There on the sands stood a man, his red and black clothes looking warm against the red-yellow sea, yellow sand, and pink skies. It was like a dream, the dream, and far too close for it to be merely a coincidence.

“You were right,” Nida heard Seifer's voice all but whisper from behind him, perfectly in time with what Nida had expected, but still he ignored it. “I guess this means...”

“Elijah,” Nida sighed, the words coming almost unbidden to his lips as he took a step forward. His eyes were glued to Elijah, just as his hands were glued to his weapon.

“I knew you'd come for me,” Elijah said, not yet turning. “No, that's not right. I knew you'd come to me. It took a lot to convince Boyce to allow me to join the attack here. His goal was to call you out, despite SeeD. He succeeded in that, but nothing he could do would win you, right?”

“I'm not here to talk.”

“You're here to protect them? They aren't worth your time. You belong with us.”

“Aren't worth my time? They are my friends. They were Daphne's family. They are my people. I won't let you harm a single one of them.”

“And who will stop us?”

Nida raised the halberd before himself, gripping it tightly.

“I will.”

“Not alone you won't,” Elijah said, his voice almost sad. “You've never been able to beat me. Not really. Just give up, just come with me. Come to where you belong.”

“Who said he's alone?”

When Seifer spoke Elijah whirled so quickly that Nida was sure he had to be somewhat dizzy. The swordsman's brilliant blue eyes widened as they came upon Seifer, then narrowed just as quickly.

“Almasy. Should have expected you to tag along.”

“Elijah. Should have expected you to be a coward and run away after our last meeting.”

“I prefer to call it a strategic withdrawal.”

“Doesn't matter what you call it.”

“Enough,” Nida hissed. “Both of you. Elijah, stop this madness. Surrender now, tell us who else in Winhill are Zebalgan agents, and you won't suffer much.”

“And if I don't?”

“Then Seifer deals with you while I call on the SeeD forces outside of the village and have them deal with Andria, Joshua, and Lena themselves. Cutting off the head as it were.”

For a moment Elijah stared at Nida, and their eyes met. It almost hurt, looking into those eyes. They were almost cold, nothing like the warmth Nida was used to from them. All Nida could do was try to squash those feelings.

“You've never been a good liar,” Elijah said, almost sounding regretful. “While I applaud your figuring some things out, I highly doubt you have the people to take on Joshua. While he might not be as high of a level as you, those of us who were in the militaries were ordered never to show how good we could be. Joshua is a lot better than any of your reports might imply.”

Nida sighed and shook his head, but he knew Elijah was likely right. Which meant that there wasn't that great of a chance that he and Seifer could handle this on their own. So Nida did the only thing that was really left to him: he reached into his pocket.

Instantly Elijah slid into a defensive stance, and Seifer followed him a heartbeat later. Nida, though, ignored them both and drew out his Garden communicator. With a switch and a button the device came to life and Squall's voice instantly rang out.

“I'm going to...”

“Squall, we need that deployment of SeeDs right away in Winhill. High level, yourself included I think. Start at the mayor's manor. There you will find a Galbadian SeeD named Joshua, our wayward Lena, and the mayor's wife, whose name is Andria. The latter, at the very least, I believe is one of the robed people from the first video.”

There was silence for a minute, from all parties, before Squall spoke again. “You're not alone.” It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

“Elijah. And before you ask, yes. Exactly. Now, if you don't mind, Seifer and I have some business to take care of.”

“Good luck.”

Nida smiled, “I'll do my best.”

“I know.”

Then the communicator went dead.

For a few more heartbeats there was silence.

“Shall we dance?” Elijah asked.

Nida smiled, lowered his halberd, and gripped it as tightly as he dared. “Just like old times.”


	16. Chapter 12

As always Elijah stood there, his eyes filled with amusement, as he wanted for Nida to make the first move. What was stranger was the fact that Seifer was doing the same thing. For some reason the blond gunblader stood by as well. Seifer had never struck Nida as a defensive fighter, and yet there he was, waiting. Both of them, waiting as it were, for Nida. It almost made Nida want to sigh. Why did everything have to be about him at times like this? If only he could go back to that time when he was a child first at Garden, unnoticed, unimportant, and ultimately free of the pressures that came with it.

Well, Elijah's purpose for waiting was pretty obvious at least. It wasn't likely that Elijah wanted to see Nida injured. Maybe Seifer realized that and hoped to take advantage of it in the course of the fight. Great, for all he knew, Seifer would be using him as a bit of a shield to try and minimize Elijah's effectiveness in the fight. Problem with that was that Nida wasn't too fond of the idea of being cut by either of the two, and he wasn't sure if such a tactic would work considering the fact that his weapon used more range than either of the blades.

At last, tired of waiting, Nida lunged forward, bringing the halberd down in a simple overhead strike that wouldn't have much of a chance of hitting Elijah. Still, it did get the red-head moving, and as he dodged to the side Elijah had to raise Rupio before him to block a quick slash from the Hyperion. Apparently the second Nida had gone into action, Seifer had moved to take advantage of the move. Well, at least Seifer was good enough to take advantage of Nida's fighting on his own.

Elijah quickly shifted back a few steps, even as Nida twisted his halberd to take a swipe at the man's legs. The move didn't trip up Elijah in the slightest, who leapt nimbly over the weapon, twisting to the side as soon as he landed so that the blow Seifer aimed for his stomach only managed to cut his shirt. Nida cursed and moved further forward, lashing out with the end of the halberd repeatedly, aiming for stomach, arm, leg, neck, head, stomach, each being parried away easily and efficiently enough that it left no openings for Seifer to strike at that Nida could see, not with Seifer standing on the same side of Elijah as Nida was.

Still, Elijah hadn't managed to get in an attack of his own yet, and that was enough for Nida to have hope. Maybe the combination of his range and Seifer's strength would be enough to do what Seifer and Squall hadn't, especially with Elijah reluctant to harm Nida.

Of course, no sooner had Nida thought that than he found himself watching as Seifer was driven back by a series of quick blows from Elijah, and Nida saw the first blood drawn from the back of Seifer's hand. The blond cursed briefly, trying repeatedly to block the blows from Elijah, seeking quite likely for some opening presented by Elijah's speed that Seifer could possibly take advantage of. It was all Nida could do just to stay in range of Elijah as the red-head pushed Seifer further and further back. Getting a clear shot anywhere seemed almost impossible, and the few blows that Nida was capable of dealing always seemed to just miss Elijah. At last, though, one of the blows was close enough that Elijah twisted to absorb the blow on Rupio. That was all the chance Seifer needed, and before Elijah or Nida could react, the black blade of Hyperion came cutting across Elijah's back.

Elijah stumbled forward a step, a hiss of pain escaping him, before he turned and slashed at Seifer. The smiling blond jumped back a step, easily avoiding the blow, and Nida lashed out in turn, laying the shaft of his halberd across Elijah's back. That drove another pained groan from Elijah, who crashed to his knees.

Even that, though, only lasted for a moment. Before either Seifer or Nida could do anything to stop him, Elijah was back on his feet, lunging at Nida with his sword raised. The sight of it made Nida freeze. He had thought that Elijah wouldn't try to hurt him, but apparently desperation, the primal desire to avoid pain was more than enough to make Elijah forget himself. Nida's eyes, though, found themselves drawn to his reflection in Elijah's blade, and to the pinpoints of light that seemed to come from somewhere behind him.

“Nida!” Seifer shouted, echoed by the same cry from Elijah.

As quickly as he could, Nida twisted, bringing the shaft of his halberd between himself and where he had seen the pinpoints of light. Even as he got the wood in place he felt as much as saw two throwing knives slam into the wood: one between his two hands and the other at the level of his neck. Nida looked out from the hilts of the knives, following them with his eyes back to the man he now saw, who hadn't been in the reflection on Elijah's sword, probably because he had been directly behind Nida.

“You idiot!” Elijah shouted, finally coming to a stop, but oddly enough it was between Nida and the man who had thrown the knives. “Don't you know who you were throwing those damn knives of yours at?”

“That so-called 'heir' of yours,” the person responded, something in his hands flashing as he strode forward. “Your point?”

“Boyce told us to bring him back, unharmed,” Elijah said, still standing before Nida, Rupio raised defensively. Nida could see the blood readily flowing from the cut that Seifer had dealt Elijah across his back, and yet here Elijah stood, trying to protect him.

“Boyce and you are too caught up in the idea of this pathetic person being important. You're obsessed with the idea of him, and Boyce is chasing after ghosts. There is no such thing as an heir, and it won't be the power of Hyne's magic that gives us mastery over this world, Elijah, and you know it.”

“If there is no such thing as the heir, then how did Nida know to come here? He's guided by the dreams, just as it is said.”

“Get over yourself,” the man said, finally getting in range for Nida to really see him. Short black hair, blue eyes, and all the look of a Galbadian military man, right down to the hair cut. Joshua.

“Dissent in the ranks, then? Interesting. But that doesn't mean that we're letting either of you get away,” Seifer said. “Come on, I'll take both of you.”

“Hardly,” Elijah said, standing up a bit straighter. “You got lucky hurting me, Seifer. But your concern right now should be for Nida's health, right? I'm sure Squall wouldn't want you getting him killed like this, right?”

“All I have to do is kill you two and I won't have to worry about Nida,” Seifer pointed out. “Besides, Nida can take care of himself, right?”

Likely that was true enough, but Nida wasn't sure what to do. He'd come here to stop Elijah, not to kill him. Well, that hadn't been the intention at the start. It sure didn't seem like what he wanted either, because he'd had the chance, ever since Elijah had stepped before him, to cut the man down. Yet he hesitated. Maybe it was the hope of talking Elijah down that stayed his hand, but that didn't change the fact that his heart wasn't in the fight.

“Nida could have killed me himself by now,” Elijah pointed out, and Nida knew he had to be smiling. “Seems he's less bound on our deaths than you are, Seifer. We'll win him over yet.”

“Hardly,” Joshua spat. “Why would we want that outsider? We are strong enough without some damn figurehead.”

“All of you shut up!” Nida shouted, and surprisingly, they seemed to listen. Once he had an extra deep breath under his belt, he continued. “I'll give you another chance, Elijah. Yield. Give us what we want, and you won't be harmed further.”

“I can no more do that now than I could then,” Elijah said with a sigh. “It is my responsibility to take you to Boyce.”

“Nida,” Seifer started, but Nida shook his head.

“Dammit. Damn all of you.”

With that Nida raised his halberd again, ignored the ping of a knife striking the head, and brought it down towards Elijah. It wasn't enough to even catch the swordsman off guard, instead prompting Elijah to roll forward with his blade, turning as he came up to point the sword at Nida.

“Fine, I'll take you by force if I have to,” the red-head said, but there was something akin to reluctance in his voice.

“No,” Nida said, reaching into a pouch for one of the spell stones. “We'll take you.”

That, though, was stopped by the sound of whistling in the air, another knife, and Nida returned his hand to the halberd, stabilizing it against yet another attack. Yet, with a red flash from Rupio, Elijah easily knocked the unseen weapon from the air. Nida barely had time to breathe before Seifer was lunging forward, Hyperion raised, and slashing Elijah. This the swordsman barely parried, and Nida was left for a second hesitating over whether to go for the opening that left him or not. It was a second too long, and the opening was easily closed again by Elijah, leaving Nida still stuck outside of the fight, and yet the center of it. No longer could he bring himself to wish harm on Elijah, not after the actions of the man had protected him, not after Elijah had willingly stepped between him and harm, just like he would have only a month ago. Part of Nida had to wonder if Elijah even truly believed what he said, but the sheer fanatic edge to his words could more than quell that idea. Which left Nida more than confused about what to do regarding the former SeeD.

Luckily, Elijah wasn't the only target now before them. The dark haired, blue-clad Galbadian stood outside of Seifer and Elijah's best reach, leaving him the biggest threat to Seifer and Nida. Those knives wouldn't be easy for Seifer to deal with if he was fighting Elijah, and Joshua had made no effort to disguise his dislike for Nida. Here, at least, was a target that Nida could handle.

Nida waited for another knife from Joshua to fly at him, and quickly twisted aside from its path before reaching again into the pouch of spell stones. Quickly his fingers felt over the runes inscribed in them, selecting by feel alone one of the few Ultimas Seifer had been able to acquire. Then, with the small rock clenched between his fingers, Nida ran towards Joshua.

The action, apparently, didn't surprise Joshua in the slightest, and instead of pulling more throwing knives from the small belt at his waist, the Galbadian pulled two longer knives from his hips. They were fighting blades, and the edges on them looked more than sharp enough to shave with. Those things would be deadly in close range, and enable Joshua to move more than fast enough to deal with Nida's superior range. Good thing, then, that Nida had no intention of a melee.

Just before he entered his normal combat range, Nida yanked the spell stone from his pouch and flung it with all of his might at Joshua's feet. The stone exploded readily at Joshua's feet, releasing the magical energy pent up inside. A green mist seemed to flow from the broken stone, expanding as Joshua stared down in horror. Before the man could even move the mist started to form into a brilliant ball of light above his head, growing larger and more radiant faster than the eye could really follow. Nida was forced to look away as the light grew too bright to handle, and when he looked back, the ball of light had exploded outwards in the characteristic wall of emerald light and fire. Nida waited just long enough for the light lessen to the point where it wouldn't harm him, then stepped into the blast radius of the spell, hands tight on his halberd once again.

He found Joshua on his knees, knives dropped uselessly at his sides. The spell had done its work of weakening the man, and Nida was thankful for that. The sheer force of the spell had even ripped Joshua's clothing. Still, at least the man was weakened and would be far easier to deal with. Nida moved forward, and laid the blade of his halberd at the man's throat, making sure to keep far enough away that even were he to pick up his knives they would hardly be any use to him.

“Surrender and you'll have your life.”

Joshua knelt there, his head down so that Nida could not see his expression. Then, unexpectedly, a sound started to rise from Joshua, something that was almost amused. The sound grew into a chuckle, then full on laughter. It was enough to make Nida consider pulling his weapon back, lest it cut the man that was so obviously hysterical.

“You really think you've won?” Joshua said, amusement still plain in his voice. “A little spell is all it would take to stop one of the best trained combatants of the Zebalgan people? Do you really think that Gardens are so talented as to make you the best warriors known to the world? How foolish.”

The laughter was back then, stronger than ever, and Nida could feel an ache in his hands from how tightly he was gripping the shaft of his halberd.

“Those of us like myself and Elijah, we train from the time we're old enough to stand without help. The ones who can't cut it are sent to other training. Some become the story tellers and historians. Some trained in intrigue so they can someday take positions of power. Some lead normal lives. But those of us who succeed, who are strong...”

A sharp, hot pain cut across Nida's leg, and Nida found himself kneeling before Joshua before he could really understand what was going on. Then he saw it, a flash of silver that went with the savage grin on Joshua's face.

_The knives_ , Nida suddenly thought. Sure enough when he looked for them at Joshua's side, the weapons weren't there. Instead he found one of them in the Galbadian SeeD's hand. The other Nida found with some searching just behind himself, wet and glistening red from his own blood. 

_When did he throw that? Or pick it up? I was watching him. I didn't see..._

That didn't matter, it had happened, and now Nida was sporting a bad cut along the outside of his leg, just below the knee. What did matter, though, as the clean blade still in Joshua's hand was raised before him, and the smile on Joshua's face seemed to grow. If he was quick enough to grab his knives and cut Nida's leg with a throw, then he was more than able to throw the next through Nida's neck. In the position that he was now, Nida would hardly be able to get his halberd in place to protect him. This would be the end of him, then, killed at the hands of a member of the same group who seemed intent on honoring him for things he could hardly understand.

Nida watched as the blade flew from Joshua's hand, slower than should be possible. Maybe that was just something in his mind, stretching out his final moments. The blade grew closer and closer, and all Nida could find himself wishing for was the chance to apologize to Elijah. To beg him to relent.

The knife suddenly changed course, as if flitting away across some barrier. Even as that happened Nida came to notice the odd tingling over his skin that always came with a protect spell. Someone, Elijah or Seifer, had saved him at the last moment with the spell. Joshua had come to that realization as well, and with a look that was more snarl than anything else, raised his hand before him, a very obvious motion for casting. Quickly Nida began to rise, using his halberd to help him to his feet. At the same time Nida reached into the spell stone pouch. There was no chance he would find a curative stone, none had as of yet been created, but he could hope for a shell stone. Instead his fingers brushed over another rune that he hadn't been expecting, and a welcome one indeed. By the time he pulled out the stone, though, and crushed it against his leg, Joshua seemed to fade out of existence before Nida's eyes, with a whispered word on his lips.

_Not a spell, then_ , Nida thought, all but cursing it in his mind. Apparently the Zebalgans had just as much access to Guardian Forces as a SeeD. Or maybe Joshua's GF had come from SeeD. 

Mist filled the space where Joshua had been, before it all swirled together and froze into the pale body of a woman. Color rushed into the ice and became red armor on the body of a woman that looked nothing like Shiva. Another unknown GF, then, and this one obvious ice-aligned. The ice that seemed to compose the woman's body started to spread, forming great wings and a trident of red. The weapon was almost bigger than she was, and when she thrust it out before her, her wings flared wide to maintain her balance. Yet the thing that caught Nida the most was the way that as the trident was thrust before her, a wall of ice seemed to form behind it and flow forward like a wave. Like an avalanche the thing moved, crushing and rolling over everything in its pat bearing down unerringly towards Nida. Quickly he closed his eyes, letting the cold wash over him, not that he had too much of a choice.

The cold hurt, making every bone and muscle ache unbelievably. Yet, as quick as it came the cold receded. Nida was left shivering and staring at Joshua, who was panting harder from the strain of the summoning. Still the man was smiling, gloating at the damage he had done.

Nida couldn't help but smile in response as he felt the warmth infuse his body, a rather useful side-effect of the aura spell that gave energy to his body. The spell stone had been more helpful than Nida would have expected, and already he felt the adrenaline rushing through his body as aura made it do. Not that reckless kind of energy that a normal rush gave you, but focused, powerful, harnessable in the way that SeeDs learned and referred to as 'limit breaks.' Sure, they learned how to harness those normal adrenaline surges that came when you were weak and fearing for your lives, but it was much easier to do with an aura spell, and not one of the more focused ones used by medical centers to stimulate a weak or irregular heart.

Without hesitation Nida lifted his halberd and rolled his shoulders for a moment, and watched in near delight as realization touched Joshua's eyes. Then, before Joshua could react, Nida was rushing forward, closing the minimal distance between them and bringing the ax-head of his halberd down before him in an overhead strike. There wasn't time to revel in the successful blow, though, before Nida pulled the blade back, letting it cut more into the man's shoulder where it had struck, before twisting the blade and twisting it so that the hook could rake across Joshua's chest. The man tilted his head back to avoid anything more than a shallow cut up the side of his face, but Nida wasn't stopping there. Once the weapon was free from Joshua, Nida raised it above his head, twirled the weapon twice, and then moved to strike at the man from the side.

Normally Nida avoided using his 'limit' on people. While the way he performed it would vary depending on whether he used a bladed weapon or not, he hated using the bladed version on people. It was something Nida couldn't help but remember now as his adrenaline supplemented strength drove the ax-head easily through the side of Joshua's neck, parting skin and muscle easily, and being only momentarily slowed by the man's spine. By the time Nida had returned the weapon to his side to lean upon, he was watching, almost sick, as Joshua's head tumbled from his shoulders.

Against beasts and monsters it was hardly something that bothered Nida, but to look upon the ragged flesh left on Joshua's shoulders, the deep red welling forth from the heart that was still pumping, not yet noticing that there was nothing left to pump to. Joshua's body seemed to sag, unstable now without the mind to keep balance, before at last falling forward, slowly like a felled tree.

_Hyne, forgive me_ . 

Nida could not bring himself to turn his gaze, to meet the dead eyes of the man.

_Does it count as murder when you're saving your own life?_ Nida found himself wondering. Surely he could have diffused the situation in another way. Earned them a captive instead of a corpse. 

The thoughts quickly killed the little bit of warmth left over from the aura spell.

“Fuck,” Nida heard hissed behind him, Seifer's voice though the words could have just as easily come from Elijah. Nida had never even let Elijah seen the attack. He'd been ashamed, almost sickened by the near blood-lust that came at that time, the relentless cruelty of the attack. Yet as much as Nida hated it, he could not deny the effectiveness of the attack. Few things survived it when he managed to hit, save for the ones with truly thick hides, armor, or really a lack of the weak spot of the throat. Sure, the swordsman had seen the attack combination Nida used with a non-bladed weapon, one focused on breaking bones, disabling the opponent, but this...

“Better he die in battle then face Boyce for treason,” Elijah said, and Nida could hear the shaking in his voice.

Slowly Nida turned to face the other two, not sure if he was looking for their pity or their judgment. What he found, though, was a temporary truce. Sure, both were still armed, and obsessionally casting distrustful looks, but something had stopped the combat.

Elijah must have seen the confusion, for he shrugged a little and offered an answer without Nida having to ask. “When we caught sight of you on your knees, hurt, and Joshua looking ready to summon, we both acted. I got off the Protect spell, and I believe Seifer threw in a Shell spell, though you might not have noticed it under the Aura you gave yourself.”

“And now the fight resumes?” Nida couldn't help but ask, unable to quell the sorrow in his voice.

“There isn't any other choice,” Seifer pointed out, far from reluctant. As ever, the blond seemed intent upon a fight.

“Seifer, we came here to protect Winhill, because of my dream. So please...”

The blond sighed and moved a step away from Elijah, shaking his head the whole while. Elijah, though, stood as he had, frowning as he met Nida's gaze.

“Words aren't going to solve this,” Elijah pointed out, but it was something that Nida well knew.

“That doesn't mean I can't try, does it?”

Elijah seemed to consider this for a moment, before nodding in agreement.

“Speak your piece, but know that I have every intention of taking you back with me.”

“No, Elijah. You will return to Boyce, alone. You will tell him what happened here and give him a message from me.”

“You don't understand what he will do if...”

“You fail again? No, I honestly don't. I also don't care. What happens is upon your head, not mine. You chose to betray Garden, to go over to that man. Be happy that you are being given any mercy at all. I might not be able to kill you myself, but with Seifer at my side we could, or at least stall you until the Ragnarok arrives. You know well how fast that ship moves, and Squall will be here soon enough to deal with your allies. So just shut up and listen for once in your life, Elijah.”

Nida waited for a moment, and when he was sure that Elijah wasn't about to speak, he nodded and quickly tried to come up with a message for Boyce.

“Tell him that I will not be his pawn, and that his plan is purely foolish. SeeD will not stand for this, I will not stand for this. I would sooner find myself dead than a pawn of your pathetic plans, and if I was capable of leading you to the power of Hyne, I would never do so. Some things are not meant to be in the hands of mortals, and the power of a god is right up there. Even were it to be in the hands of mortals, never would I want it in hands such as his. Cowards, and only cowards, use innocents as pieces in their battles. Threatening those we have contracts to defend from monsters is the worst kind of cowardice, and to do it because you wish to have the head of Seifer or a Sorceress on a platter. What evils has Rinoa done? What evils Edea Kramer when not under the sway of Ultimecia? And while Seifer has done wrong, even he was moved to help us after your kind stuck your heads out to threaten the world. We will face you, all of you, and we will win.”

Okay, so maybe it was a bit more complex then he had intended, but Nida couldn't help it. He wished he could tell it to Boyce himself, but there was no chance for that, and even less that Elijah would give the message word for word. So Nida had to be happy enough with the spirit of the thing.

“As for you,” Nida said, moving closer to Elijah, and shaking his head. “You, Elijah, I pity. How could you be drawn so astray by a single man? I know you didn't get along with everyone, but surely it wasn't because you were told to do such by Boyce. You acted the way you did because you cared. You cared that Irvine didn't like you, you cared that Quistis didn't see you as attentive or caring. Most of all, you cared what I thought. And now... Now I don't know what to think about you. I had faith in you for so long. You were my first friend. My first relationship. And now...I don't even know how to think of you now. You betrayed more than Garden, hurt more than those children you cut down. You hurt me, you betrayed me. Something you  _swore_ never to do.”

Pain, Nida could only see pain in Elijah's eyes. At least something in his words was getting through to the other man. In the end, maybe that was all that he could expect from Elijah to this point. Clearly Elijah was no longer the same man he had been. Or maybe the man Nida had known had never really existed. Maybe Nida had always been a target, one that Elijah had been long ago assigned to.

“Nida,” Elijah said at last, reaching out towards him with his free hand, as if longing to touch Nida. That, though, wasn't happening. Nida pulled further back, shaking his head.

“You lost that right, Zale. Lost your right to everything when you tried to take me from Garden that night... Now get out of my sight.”

Both Seifer and Elijah looked shocked by this dismissal. Well, Seifer looked more outraged then anything else, but that was something Nida was willing to let go of.

“Come on, Seifer. Squall will arrive soon, and I want to be there when they get Andria. I hate the idea that someone has been lying to me for my whole life.”

Seifer considered this for a moment, then shrugged and moved towards Nida. “Squall isn't going to like this.”

“Of course he isn't. That is a concern for when we get to him, though. And use one of those tarps we brought with your bag to cover Joshua's body. Squall will want to see it.”

With that, Nida turned his back on Elijah and the sunset, orienting himself towards Winhill. The walk wasn't going to be fun, but if they were lucky they would be able to slip around the Esthari patrols that were surely present, and still come in behind the town so that they could end up close to the mayor's home. Who knew, maybe they could even make it to there and see Andria before Squall showed up.

“Nida,” he heard, the words almost faint as they reached him. “I love you.”

It was a sentiment Nida wasn't even sure if he could share.


	17. Chapter 13

“Well, if it isn't young Nomura,” came Andria's warm greeting as she opened her door to Nida and Seifer. Her smile was just as warm and gentle as Nida had always known it to be, the smile of a grandmotherly woman, though she had never had any children of her own. Because of that she had always spoiled the village children, giving them cookies and small gifts whenever they visited.

She didn't look much different from how she once had, her hair still a soft sort of gray, her still wearing a dress with a simple flower pattern, and the air around her still smelling of lilacs. There were more wrinkles here and there, and a touch of anxiety in her eyes, but other than that she looked the same as she ever had. It was all as much a lie now as it had been back then. Part of Nida wanted to scream in her face, to yell and rage and pour out all his anger. Not only had he been lied to, everyone else had. Daphne had. Had friendship ever meant anything to this woman?

Instead Nida just smiled, as calm as he could be when he was bleeding, tired, and with the most terrible pain in his heart. Likely as not Seifer didn't look much better behind him, but that was nothing that Nida could deal with right now. Chances were that Andria would take his lies at face value, believe he was only here because he had been too tired and injured after monster hunting to stumble home and tend to himself. They would hide Lena, of course, but maybe, just maybe, Nida could keep Andria here until there was no escape to be had.

“Oh dear,” Andria quickly said, taking in the look of them. Seifer had insisted at some point that Nida stop long enough to try and bind the wound on his leg, which Seifer had only been able to partially heal with the simple Cure spells he'd had on him. Really, they had gone out far too unequipped for this whole venture. “What happened to the two of you? No, never mind that. Come inside this instant. We must see to your injuries.”

“Thank you. Someone should remind me not to go after monsters when I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I think I've got a bit of a fever,” Nida lied, easily. Far too easily for his own comfort, but Andria just nodded and ushered them in. She did, though, look upon Seifer for a moment with a look of recognition and disgust. Yet the look was gone too fast for Nida or Seifer to even comment upon.

“A fever? My dear boy, has no one taught you in that school of yours that when you are ill you must rest?”

“Yeah, but you know me. I'm a bit on the stubborn side. Seifer, this is Andria Chapel, the wife of our fine mayor. Andria, this is Seifer Almasy, a former classmate of mine. He was living at my cottage until recently. Unfortunately things called me back to Garden when I came to visit, and Seifer chose to accompany me.”

“Yes, I think I heard something about a young man staying at your place. Please forgive us for not sending you word,” she apologized, guiding Nida to where he knew the rather large bathroom was. Andria had been a nurse long ago, long before marrying the mayor, and had insisted upon a bathroom being built in their home where she could deal with the injuries children were prone to in daily life. Once inside she patted the dark counter top by the sink, and Nida obediently hopped up for her, though it took some assistance from Seifer to accomplish the feat. “I can't believe those Garden people had you return before you could even visit us. What a shame.”

“To be honest, I can't fault them,” Nida said. Normally he talked about what he had been doing with anyone who asked, provided it wasn't classified. Clamming up now when she likely suspected what was happening would be a problem. So best to phrase things as if he was trying to protect her as an innocent. “If you would keep this between us and the mayor...”

Andria nodded, almost conspiratorially.

“We're at the edge of war, Andria. A group calling themselves the Zebalgans have said they will pretty much bring SeeD down, and attack any villages who seek our protection. Which is bad enough since some towns took protection contracts out after they first announced themselves. Now they want us to put two innocent women on trial and kill them. Worst of all is that they think I'm some kind of... Well I'm not sure what, but they've sworn to get their hands on me, which would be bad for everyone because it would put people at war. My best friend, Elijah, remember how I told you about him? Well, turns out he was one of these Zebalgans, and he killed so many people trying to kidnap me. Kids I was responsible to protect...”

Nida let the memories overwhelm him, tears would do better selling his story than words.

“Oh my,” Andria said, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. It took everything Nida had not to recoil from her. “Dear, sweet boy. Things will get better, I know it.”

Nida shook his head. “The only reason I'm here now is because Squall wanted to find a place for me to stay that was away from the combat. Seifer's here as my guardian. Thing was, I couldn't stand being cooped up when people are getting hurt because some group of people believes I'm special. So I went out to hunt monsters and...” Nida gestured helplessly at his leg.

All of it Andria took in stride before nodding and reaching into a cabinet for her medical supplies. There was nothing, so far as Nida could tell, that implied that she didn't trust his words, but nothing to say that she trusted them either. Still, Nida could hope.

“Dear me. I hope Winhill isn't pulled into this fight. We do have a contract with Balamb, after all.”

Nida shook his head, “That isn't a concern. SeeD voluntarily dissolved that contract, and Esthar is protecting the village instead. They are stationed carefully around the village so that they don't interfere with life here. I don't know if the Zebalgans want to face...”

There was a knocking from the front door, and Andria looked up, half confused and half worried.

_She must think Elijah is returning. Maybe Joshua or Lena. She'd know we'd gone to find Lena, right? That finding the girl here would be suspicious. Then again, maybe it's Squall..._

“I wonder who that could be,” Andria said, worry even reaching her voice. 

“Allow me,” Seifer offered. “You tend to Nida. I remember my way back to the door.”

“No, no. That is sweet dearie, but to be honest, if you answer the door in your current state you might set up something of a bit of noise here. People would think some ruffian was robbing us.”

Seifer shook his head, all but scoffing at the idea, but let Andria slip out of the room. Then, once she was gone, he quickly moved beside Nida, riffling through the medical kit.

“What are you doing?” Nida found himself hissing.

“If that is someone who'd be happy to see me dead, I'd rather have you in fighting condition alongside me.”

With that Seifer tore a roll of gauze from its packaging and unscrewed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide with one hand. The latter was poured liberally on Nida's cut, almost making him scream in pain and protest, and the former quickly wrapped around the bubbling cut. Seifer didn't even wait to apply the same treatment to a few other, small injuries, and to apply another does of light cure to the worse bruises from the GF's attack. Then, without waiting for Nida's thanks, the gunblader started to treat his own wounds in the same way.

It had been rough and Seifer had far from a good bedside manner, but as Nida inspected the bandaging around his leg he could not at all deny the fact that it was good work. Enough that Kadowaki herself would probably be proud. Likely the effectiveness of it was something Seifer had picked up in one of the classes the Garden offered that Nida hadn't taken, but the speed probably came from all that time on the run after the war. If you were hurt and needed tending, better to do it fast before the mob caught up, right?

“There,” Seifer said after anchoring a final bandage around his arm with some medical tape. “Ready to go. Come on, Squall should be here any...”

There was a small shout from the direction of the door, Andria shocked by her company, and Nida hopped down from the counter and grabbed his halberd from where he had left it leaning beside the door. Seifer soon followed him into the hall, and when they glanced in the direction of the door they were met by a sight both frightening and comforting.

“You,” Squall growled, turning his attention away from the pair of SeeDs who were restraining Andria, not even bothering to order the others with him to search the rooms to find Lena and Joshua. “You two are...”

“Joshua is dead,” Nida cut in, not wanting for this fight to happen now, in front of Andria. “We left his body just outside of town, near the beach. He'll be under an orange tarp from the flier, anchored with the largest rocks we could find. We also rigged up a small magical barrier with some of my spare spell stones, which should hopefully keep the monsters from his corpse.”

Nida could see the way Andria's eyes widened in horror at that announcement, but it wasn't a look he had to face long before he saw her pulled out of the house by the two SeeDs Squall had left responsible for her.

Squall's glare failed for a moment, but only a moment, before he strode purposefully towards Nida and Seifer. The anger there, it was more than justified, but Nida hated to see it directed at himself. The SeeD Commander looked about ready to cut Nida down himself, damn the Zebalgans, propriety, and everyone's feelings. It was what Nida deserved, but he still felt as resolved about what he had done as he had before he set out.

Oddly enough it was Seifer's actions that stopped Squall in his tracks. The blond easily pushed past Nida, Hyperion not quite in hand, and stood there, a barrier between Squall and Nida.

_Great, two of the most deadly men in the world, quite possibly about to come to blows, and all over me._

“What are you doing?”

“You told me that I was to protect him, while making it look like I was protecting others. And right now, I'm following that order as best I can,  _sir_ .” 

“I didn't mean against me,” Squall pointed out, almost calm and ice once more.

“You never said not against you, either,” Seifer pointed out, calm as well.

“I should have your rank, I should have your head,” Squall said, closing the distance and all but hissing the words.

“You've already got a head to appease you, a gift from Nomura.”

Squall paused, frowning. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Joshua, the guy Nida mentioned... You'll find him headless by Nida's hand. That one, Zebalgan I assure you, was trying to kill Nida. Apparently there is dissent in the ranks over Nida. Zale even tried to defend our boy from the psycho. But more about that later.”

“And Zale?”

“He got away,” Nida jumped in, not ready to hear Seifer's explanation for any of it. “I was hurt badly by Joshua, and Seifer tried to help me. Elijah took the chance to disappear.”

For a moment Squall seemed to contemplate this, before nodding at last and crossing his arms. At least, Nida was thankful, the fighting tension in the man was gone, and even Seifer was relaxing into a less guarded stance.

“I expect a full briefing. For now, though, you two are to help me in any way you can disarming the tension that will arise in Winhill after this.”

“I'll do my best, sir,” Nida said with a sigh, and guided by Seifer, left the mayor's house. The best thing he could do for right now was to find Ariel and Gail. Ariel would believe what Nida told her, as would the others their age, and Gail was considered reliable in the village. With them on his side this would not only go faster, but have a lot better of a chance of convincing a lot of people really fast. All Nida would have to offer in exchange was the truth about his relationship with Elijah. Hyne knew Ariel would enjoy that.

The problem now, though, would be earning back the trust he'd probably lost from Squall.

 

* * * * * *

 

Nida all but collapsed onto the bed Kadowaki had prepared for him, the pain in his leg having gotten so bad that putting the slightest amount of weight on it made his whole leg tremble. Even the Curagas had barely taken an edge off of the pain, even though it had sealed the wound. In the end he'd been offered an antidote, remedy and even an Esuna spell, but none had helped. Kadowaki, when contacted about it, had suggested that the knife that cut Nida had been poisoned. For the remainder of the flight on Ragnarok, Nida had been left in an empty brig cell next to the one shared by Andria and Lena, and put under a Sleep spell, to at least relieve him from the pain. Seifer had, though, woken Nida and helped him to walk back here all but on his own feet.

“Poisons designed to avoid antidotes and Esunas are hardly ever pleasant. Luckily there are not many of them, so an analysis should yield an answer for us quickly enough. Garden is also equipped to handle all sorts of exotic poisons...” Kadowaki was saying as she directed Seifer to move Nida's leg so it was stretched fully out on the bed. “If we're lucky you don't have one of the ones which move to the heart after a time. Those tend to take three hours to kill, and we'd be cutting it rather close. But, from what I hear about the man who did this, a quick death isn't what he wanted you to have. We're lucky with that. Now, Seifer, hold him still...”

Nida watched, trying to be detached, as Kadowaki came at him with a pair of scissors. Part of him wanted to moan, not from pain but sorrow, as the doctor quickly and efficiently cut down the middle of Nida's uniform pants all the way up to his thigh.

“Oh, Nida, would you look at this for me,” the doctor said, gesturing to the side, and Nida couldn't help but follow the motion of her hand. Yet no sooner had he looked than he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his leg, just below his knee.

“Fuck!” Nida shouted, turning his attention back and being met with the sight of blood welling up from his leg. Apparently she had taken the moment of distraction to reopen the wound.

“We need to work whatever we can of the poison out of your system,” Kadowaki said, moving to pull on a new pair of gloves and to massage Nida's leg. The actions both sent a fire up through his leg, and soothed him. It was an odd combination, and as Nida watched she encouraged the blood to flow from his leg rather freely.

“Could I possibly be unconscious for this?” he asked, unable to hide the nervousness in his voice.

“No. I need you awake. The earlier Sleep spell could have been bad for you, and one of the poisons on the list reacts poorly to pain killers. You're going to have to grit your teeth and bear it.”

“Just shoot me,” Nida grumbled, turning his head away from what was going on.

After a moment Kadowaki pulled away, and Nida was left only with the burning pain. For a second he could not help but close his eyes. It didn't matter what the doctor said, it hurt too much to stay here like this.

He stood before a tired and injured looking Elijah. There was blood pouring freely from a cut across the other man's chest, and more from his forehead, though Nida couldn't tell why. Elijah looked tired, and his grip on Rupio was weak at best. Nida felt no better than Elijah looked, barely able to hold his own weapon, and the ache in his leg—a phantom pain from where Joshua had cut him with the poisoned blade—was acting up. Yet there was no real option. Tired as they both were, that didn't change the fact that it had to end now. One of them had to die.

“No!” Nida shouted, sitting up even as he awoke. Another smoke dream, denying him even a moment of peace from the pain, and all but promising that it would never go away. Hyne help him, this was all just too much.

And Nida had barely even registered what had happened before Seifer was there, grabbing his shoulders and pushing Nida back down into the pillow. There was concern in his face, pity even, but that didn't matter.

“What happened?” Kadowaki demanded, rushing back to Nida's bedside.

“I think he fell asleep for a moment,” Seifer suggested.

“Dream,” Nida gasped out. “Fighting with Elijah. Smoke dream. No clue when, but the pain, it was still there.”

“Could be that the dream was affected by your pain,” Kadowaki offered. “But stay awake either way. I need to run the analysis. I promise you, Nida, I'm going as fast as I can.”

“Please, just stop the pain.”

Kadowaki frowned, then turned away, likely returning to her computer where she as running her analysis.

“Seifer,” Nida growled, gripping the sheet tightly under his hand. “Promise me that if I die here, you slit Boyce's throat for me personally.”

The blond frowned for a moment, before nodding in agreement.

“Good. Now...” Nida thought for a while before smiling. “I'm entitled to a possible last meal, right?”

Seifer looked away for a minute, as if to confirm something. Then he turned his attention back to Nida and nodded. “Anything.”

“Steak, potatoes, and cookies.”

That got the blond laughing. “Sure man. I'll have the Doc write a note for it and send some bozo to fetch it for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Face it, Nomura. No way I'm going to let you die now. I've been enjoying the fact that the cadets don't look at me funny for being traitor. If you kick it, they'll have no one else to glare at but me.”

“Thanks. So supportive,” Nida said, shaking his head and laughing as well.

 

* * * * * *

 

The meal itself was good, and made better when Kadowaki delivered the good news. Not only had the poison been one they knew, but one that was easy enough to cure. It had been meant to kill Nida slowly and painfully over a full day, but the poisoner had underestimated the ability of Balamb Garden to deal with these things. Maybe Galbadia wasn't as good with poisoning, or had less resources. Either way Nida didn't care. He had steak, pain killers, and more cookies than he could reasonably eat. Plus Kadowaki had promised Squall that if he so much as tried to hurt Nida for his insubordination, she was going to see to it that the SeeD Commander himself had to spend time in the bed next to Nida's.

“How is my patient doing?” Kadowaki said, coming to Nida's side. It had been hours since the antidote had been administered, and yet Nida was still being given pretty good privacy.

“Tired,” Nida admitted, knowing that Kadowaki at least might understand what he meant.

“And you don't want to dream,” she responded knowingly.

Nida had taken what chance he could to tell Kadowaki everything he could remember about his dreams. She had insisted she needed to know for the analysis of the data from the last dreaming. So Nida had shared it all, down to the details of the last dream. And through it all, picking up memories of other dreams he had long since had and brushed off, dreams during the Sorceress War that he'd never really realized came true, Nida had grown to fear them. Never did they show him comfort, peace, or anything anywhere near pleasant. Dreaming, especially after his last vision, was something he wanted to avoid if it wasn't one of the crazy, wildly strange dreams that every one else had. The only things he was sure of was that there would be more, and that there was something very different between the dreams that were clear, and the ones that were smoke.

“It's too much. I hate this. I hate all of this. It's a burden I never asked to bear.”

“None of us seek difficult lives,” Kadowaki pointed out, stealing a cookie from his plate. “Well, except for Squall and Seifer I think. Those two always seem to be seeking confrontation. If they had been born in a time of peace, they would have made a war out of it.”

Nida was less sure of that, but the sentiment was understandable.

“Is war just something humanity seeks?”

Kadowaki seemed to think on this for a moment before shaking her head. “There is some suggestion from archeology and anthropology that humans only tend towards war in specific situations. When there is conflict over territory there is war, though this is mostly due to the fact that with territory comes resources such as food and building materials, which is a necessity to life. Another reason comes from differences in ideology, these usually in tandem with need for resources. Yet in our history it seems that with free time and leisure comes and increase in war. They are still unsure as to why this correlation happens, and some posit that it is due to the Sorceresses...”

“What do you think?”

This brought a frown to the woman, and a few moments of silence.

“As a doctor I have the chance to see people come in injured due to many things. Sometimes it was sparring when bored. Sometimes it was conflict over desirable members of the opposite sex. But what strikes me as the biggest cause of injury and conflict within Garden in pride. We are proud, and desire to prove to others that there is good reason for us to be proud. That, I fear, is the reason for modern war. Power, yes. Territory, yes. Ideology, yes. But pride. More than anything, pride.”

Nida considered this in silence for a moment, but his chance to think was cut off by the sound of beeping from Kadowaki's computer. Quickly the doctor got up and shuffled over to her desk, something Nida could just barely see now that they had propped up the bed for him.

“Oh my,” Kadowaki said after a moment. “Oh my. This...”

“What is it, Doc?”

“I just received a message from Doctor Veringas.”

“Doctor Veringas?” There was always a chance that Kadowaki had shared the data from the study with someone other than Odine. Nida didn't like it, though. Odine they knew, at least, wasn't a Zebalgan. The man believed too much in himself to believe in any other person, god, or belief system.

“Of course, excuse me. You've never heard of him. Doctor Veringas is an Esthari who specializes in studies on Guardian Forces. It was he, with Odine, that discovered junctioning, though he never attached his name to the research. None of the other scholars were fooled, though. And Odine was more than happy to take the credit. Veringas, though, is a true expert in GFs, and not just in their powers and how they affect us, but in all mythos associated with them. It is he that first suggested that junctioning could lead to memory issues, and his current research is along those lines.”

“Why is he sending a message to you?” Nida couldn't help but ask.

“I sent him a message about all the things I was told by SeeDs about Elijah's GF. I was hoping he could provide some insight. He's very excited to hear about new GFs. None have been discovered since Eden and Gilgamesh, and he only ever got to hear about Griever, never study. He's hoping to learn more about the Guardians you encountered.”

“We can't tell him anything other than what they looked like,” Nida admitted.

“That may be enough for him to identify them. There is actually a list of lost Guardians. If either of those two are on it then it is possible the Zebalgans have them, and you'll at least have a warning on what you may be up against.”

Nida considered this for a second, then nodded. While he still hadn't given his report to Squall, he was sure Seifer had done at least that part, leaving Nida free to offer the information to this Doctor Veringas. Maybe it would truly be helpful.

“There was a new one today. I think I heard Joshua whisper the name of it. Something like...” Nida struggled with the memory, thinking of the way Joshua's lips had moved, the word they had formed before he had all but melted away before the onslaught of the Guardian.

At last he let the word flow from his lips, or as close to the name of the Guardian as he could construct.

“Mateas.”


	18. Chapter 14

“I should have your head for what you did.”

Not the greatest greeting that Nida had ever received, but it was still better than everything that had been happening to him these days. Better than the poison, than the fight, then any of these dreams and lies and this damn war. And a simple beheading WAS better than a court-martial in Nida's opinion. At least a beheading would be relatively quick and painless at this point.

“I did what I had to do,” Nida said, his hands rubbing at his aching leg instead of meeting Squall's eyes.

For that Squall had no response for a while, leaving a silence that Nida could no more read now than he had ever been able to. It almost made him envious of Seifer, who always seemed to know what Squall wasn't saying.

“Really?” Squall said at last, moving to sit in the chair Kadowaki had left next to Nida's bed.

The infirmary was quiet, late as it now was. The sun had gone down hours ago, and still Nida tried to prevent sleeping. In the end even Kadowaki had been unable to stay up any longer with him and had shuffled off to bed herself. Guards had been left at the infirmary door in shifts: Selphie who had brought him more food, Zell who ignored him, and finally Quistis who was even now likely leaning against the wall outside of the infirmary door, probably grading a paper or something. Seifer, Nida knew, was due back in the morning, to resume the duties Squall had given him as baby-sitter. Well, Seifer would do that if Nida made it through the night without being put into the brig.

“The dream... the one I told you about before I left. It was on a beach I knew in Winhill. One I'd taken Elijah to once. What I saw, what I heard said by Seifer in that dream... I had to be there Squall. Something in me just said I had to.”

Squall shook his head. Obviously that was not explanation enough for the other SeeD.

“A larger group could have gone, reduced some of the risk, and possibly proved to more people that you may truly be seeing the future. Now we still have no proof that you aren't working with the Zebalgans, not enough to convince some people at least.”

“Your word isn't good enough. I'm hardly surprised,” Nida sighed. “But Squall, I can tell you this. It's something I'm sure of. If I had gone there at any other time, with anyone more than Seifer, it wouldn't have happened. It wouldn't have been right. What happened was what was supposed to happen.”

“The other dream you told us about that was clear, you weren't there and we can still assume it happened the way you dreamt.”

“Yeah, but I wasn't supposed to be there. For this, I'm sure that it happened right. The only way it could happen. If you want my head for that, then take it, Squall. Just do me a favor and don't beat around the bush anymore. I'm in enough pain as it is without you offering something as kind as a permanent break from the pain.”

That actually called some emotion to Squall's face, and his eyes flicked quickly to Nida's leg. Nida could read the concern and reluctance there.

“The poison still hurts you then?”

“Kadowaki says that it's only phantom pain. An itching, tingling feeling that comes from the remembered damage to the muscles and nerves. She says it will pass with time, but...”

“What?”

“It's going to stick with me, for a while.”

The dream told Nida that. No matter what Kadowaki said, he was sure of it. The pain in the dream had not been because of the pain he had been in at the time of the dream. No, that was one of the things that lingered when the smoke faded into reality. There might be other changes, but that one fact, that Nida was sure of.

“A dream?”

All Nida could do was sigh and rub at his leg.

“Has Kadowaki received any word from Odine?” Nida found himself asking, though he was all but sure that he would get word from her before Squall did.

“He has sent some preliminary findings, but she isn't sure what to make of them, and both want more data. No, it is the findings from Veringas that we are more concerned with right now.”

“So Kadowaki has told you about Veringas?”

Squall nodded, sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “I received a small message from him in relation to the information you and the Doctor sent him today. I will be briefing everyone on them in the morning.”

“Was any of it helpful?”

For a second Squall seemed to think, probably wondering what, if anything he should tell Nida. Nida wasn't worried, though. Eventually he'd hear it all from Kadowaki, which was more than enough for him.

“Apparently he recognizes the description you gave of the fire GF that Elijah used. It is called Salamander, and is one of what is referred to as 'Lost Guardians.' The one you found in the possession of Joshua, Mateas, is an ice elemental GF of the same classification. We believe that Elijah took Mateas from Joshua as he fled, which is why Seifer was unable to acquire it.”

“I've never heard of any 'Lost Guardians,'” Nida said, frowning. “Had you before the message?”

“No. It is apparently a term used by GF scholars and researchers to describe those creatures they find referenced in writings, stories, and other ancient materials and they suspect were at one time commonly known Guardian Forces. Creatures out of legend, as it were. Once Bahamut, Eden, Odin and Gilgamesh were classified as Lost Guardians. Griever, despite our encounter with him during Time Compression, is still considered such. Veringas also believes that a few of the monsters we encountered in Ultimecia's Castle were also such. Trauma, Krysta and Tiamat in particular.”

“And the Zebalgans have secured a few of these?”

“Veringas fears that they are in possession of a good portion of these GFs.”

“Fears? Why fears?”

“Do you know how many different registered GFs the Gardens are in possession of? Not including the four Lost Guardians that we found during the war?”

That, to be honest, was not something Nida really kept ahead of. What he knew of GFs was limited to personal experience, rumors and speculation. He did know that through certain techniques and technologies developed in relation to GFs allowed all but the four Squall mentioned and Phoenix to be used by multiple SeeDs at once, provided it was not all at the same time and there was a certain minimal distance between those junctioning and/or summoning the beings. No one group could use multiple of one GF, but two groups a city away might both have Ifrit with them. Nida hardly understood it, but it was an accepted truth.

“Honestly, sir, I don't.”

“There are only forty. Forty for almost a hundred SeeDs, and hundreds more cadets. Odin was destroyed before we gained Gilgamesh, and neither could be junctioned. Phoenix also cannot be junctioned, and appears rarely at best. We struggle to keep our SeeDs properly equipped with GFs in times of conflict. Veringas says Lost Guardians work differently. They have something that distinguish how they function from how normal GFs do. They are more like those we have. The Zebalgans, were they to possess even half of the Lost Guardians, they would have more than a hundred unique GFs. You see the advantage to this?”

It would mean that the Zebalgans could mass summon GFs with no chance of there being a conflict with another user, while SeeDs had to carefully assign their multiple copies of normal GFs. This would be more than just an advantage, but an overwhelming ability for the Zebalgans to use against SeeD in a wartime situation.

“You mean we could be out gunned, so to speak.”

“They have numbers on us, and if they can supplement those numbers with GF enhanced abilities, even SeeD training may not be enough to even the playing field.”

“I don't think it will be, sir,” Nida sighed, sitting up straighter in his bed. “Joshua... He was good. As good, maybe better than Elijah. He had me on my knees from that cut before I even noticed he picked up the blade. Said something about the way that Zebalgans were trained to fight. Squall... I don't know if we have much of a chance with this.”

“That doesn't mean we don't have to try. Besides, there is some good news.”

Nida raised an eyebrow in question, and Squall smiled. Well, it wasn't really a smile for most people, just an almost imperceptible curl to his lips.

“During our... conversations with Andria we discovered she was junctioned.”

Which could only mean someone had gotten hurt during the process of the 'conversation.' Still, the way that Squall was almost smiling meant it probably wasn't badly, and something good had come from it... The GF.

“Registered?” Nida found himself asking, only to find himself smiling a bit when Squall shook his head.

“It was called Ramuh. From what little we can tell, it's an electric based summon, but we'll be testing it later. If it is something safe to use, then it will be assigned to one of our senior level SeeDs that doesn't have as good of a connection to another GF.”

“Any other good news?”

“Andria had admitted to being a part of the group of eight that were seen in that video. The one in the gray robes. And Joshua, while we haven't had it exactly from her lips, may have been the blue.”

There wouldn't be a way to prove it unless there was another video where Boyce acknowledged it, and even then it would be questionable, but this was still an achievement. Taking out not one, but two members of what appeared to be the ruling council of the Zebalgans might be something truly to their advantage. Then again, it could be that they were people opposed to Boyce's opinions, which Joshua had obviously been. That then would mean that Boyce had more control over what happened.

“We'll never be able to be sure,” Nida said after a minute, though he thought it did explain some of Joshua's willingness to threaten Nida despite Elijah's will.

“No, but it is what it is. I'll be presenting all of this to the others in the morning, and we'll be deciding what to do next.”

“Have we learned anything from Lena?”

Squall shook his head. “Not a thing. She's better than Andria at silence.”

“And Winhill?”

“We've had a handful of complaints from residents about 'kidnapping' Andria and her guests, but most people seem to believe whatever it was you put around town, and everyone is content for the protection being offered by Esthar. They've even welcomed the soldiers into the village proper, for which Laguna at the least is quite thankful for. He's foolishly considering a visit to the village.”

“Genius could get himself killed,” Nida sighed, more than willing to sympathize with Squall on this. Laguna could be foolish, and Squall, for how little he admitted it, was often concerned for his father.

“Well... Nida, for now, try to get some sleep. Kadowaki says she is worried about you.”

“Squall, please, I... I don't want to sleep. I'm afraid of what I'll see.”

“Things from the future, or the past?”

Neither. Both. The recent dream about Elijah, the recent memory of Joshua's head on the ground, bleeding from the neck.

“Yes.”

“Tell me about this latest dream Kadowaki mentioned.”

“No.”

Squall looked a bit shocked by the rejection, almost even ready to say something. Yet the moment passed and Squall shrugged, accepting the words.

“Seifer told me about how you handled Joshua. I'm not sure if I should applaud you for taking out a dangerous enemy, or reprimand you for killing a possible resource.”

“Trust me on one thing, Squall,” Nida said, casting his eyes once more towards his leg, “Joshua would have given you even less than Lena did. And you'd have more people than me in here, suffering from his damn poison.”

This Squall took in stride, just nodding and moving on as easily as he did during any briefing. “As for the way you accomplished it... Well, I am thankful you gave him a kinder death than he would have given you.”

“A kinder death?” Nida scoffed. “What is kind about taking a man's head off after nearly slicing his belly open and cutting an eye out of his head? There is no mercy in what I did, Squall. It would have been kinder to give him the poison. At least then he would have had a fighting chance.”

Again, Squall took the words in silence, but this time it was with a serious frown.

“Few people these days have cut a man's head off,” Squall said a last, his words almost a whisper. “The first time I did I considered quitting SeeD. They don't tell you that a man is still alive for a few seconds after you take his head off. They don't tell you just how much blood there is because the heart doesn't know any better than to pump. They don't tell you that when you meet the person's eyes at first, they can still look back.”

They didn't tell you a lot of things when you became a mercenary, but never before had the void seemed so pressing.

“Your Limit is described in your file, Nida. Except the one Seifer saw wasn't the one described. Can you explain that?”

“It varies with weapon,” Nida said, unsurprised to hear his voice cracking. “Blades end up like... like that. It's why I either avoid Limits or bladed weapons against people. It isn't so bad against a Ruby Dragon...”

“Indeed,” Squall agreed. “Listen, Nida... I need you to get over this. Over the pain, the trauma, the way you seem to distrust me. If we're to get through this, I need you helping us, not fight me. Which means I need you to be willing to do whatever it takes to bring this world back to peace. I didn't ask as much of you in the last war, but... This time I need everything everyone is capable of. And I need it now. Can you do that?”

“I don't know, sir. But I will try.”

 

* * * * * *

 

_They weren't innocent anymore. They could never be innocent again. Never. He could see that now. He could also see that he was on the edge of panic. Here, holding the dead body close to him, glaring up at Boyce. Ah, but on the edge of panic there is that moment of clarity. Nida had discovered this, and knew now that the clarity was more likely to break him than the panic itself._

_**I don't have a chance** _ _is what the clarity said, resounding in his head with more force, more certainty than anything Siren ever told him._ _**I could barely stand now if I wanted to, and there is still work to be done.** _

_**I can't take it.** _

_And there is blood everywhere. Blood on Nida's hands from the man in his lap. Blood on Nida's weapons from the same, not to mention the pool of spreading blood they lie in. Even blood staining his clothes, some of the man, some of his own, slowly his own life bleeding from him with each highly accelerated beat of his over strained heart..._

_**There was a moment, but it's gone. I can't do it anymore. Only a miracle...** _

Nida was granted one, but hardly the one that he sought. The only miracle granted to him was awakening, was being free of the continuation of the dream. Yet it still lingered in his mind, every detail that he could remember. The taste of blood in the air. The feel of the hot fluid seeping into his clothing. The rapidly cooling body in his arms. The sheer panic, the terrifying clarity. Worst of it was that he didn't understand any of it. More than anything the dream had been thoughts and sensations, but not sight. Sure, he'd been able to make out the dark stone underneath him. He'd been able to tell that the vague shape flowing around him was blood. Yet everything else had been obscured, cloaked and wavering in tears that overflowed his eyes. All he could see was red and black in both the floor and the blood. All he'd been able to hear was his own sobs and thoughts. All he'd been able to feel was the too hot blood, the pain, and the coolness of a skin deprived of blood.

Yet there had been no smoke, no fog. Something in what he saw was absolute, undeniable, beckoning to him across the flow of time. It screamed that he couldn't escape, couldn't hope, couldn't run.

“Good morning Nida,” Kadowaki's voice came from his elbow, and Nida fought back the tears that threatened to flow over even in the waking world.

When he looked up he saw that her attention was not on him, but rather the machine at his side. Apparently some time after he had fallen asleep, Kadowaki had returned to the infirmary and reconnected the machine to take more data on the off chance that Nida did dream something. Well, maybe this would be useful in some way, maybe Odine would even find some way to block the dreams out.

Ah, but who was he kidding? Odine would sooner come up with an argument that would earn him Nida as a permanent test subject than stop him from having the dreams. Damn bastard clown.

“Seems you had another dream. Care to talk about it?”

Instead of answering, Nida sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Kadowaki turned to look at him for a moment, then just shook her head and gestured towards the chair that Nida had last seen Squall in. Someone had taken the time to fetch Nida some clean clothes, and once Kadowaki removed herself from the area and pulled the curtain around to isolate the bed, Nida happily pulled on the clothes. The slacks itched horribly against the leg Joshua had cut, but Nida ignored that as he pulled on the white button-up that had been left to him, a nice change from the tight collars of the SeeD uniform.

It was nice to be in his own clothes again, though Nida quickly enough realized why he had been given his own casual things rather than a new uniform. It was all the better for Squall to distance him from his position as a SeeD, a quiet punishment Nida deserved for what he had done in the last few days. Soon enough people would come around and Nida would be allowed to be in uniform again, though it was likely that the uniform would have to be made new. Nida had ruined all of his uniforms recently, so time would have to be given until a new set in his size could be made. Still, at least this was something other than the hospital gown Kadowaki had given him upon his arrival to the infirmary.

“Take care of yourself, Nida,” Kadowaki said as he pushed through the curtain and limped towards the infirmary doorway.

Nida didn't even make it three steps through the door before Seifer was at his side, the blond already back in his own casual clothes. Chances were that Squall had Seifer on punishment as well, temporarily suspending him without removing his duty to watch over Nida. Luckily, Seifer's casual clothes had changed a bit since the last war, and the gray trench coat was no where in sight, replaced instead by a simpler white coat with Seifer's signature red sword-cross only very lightly visible at the wrists as small bits of embroidery.

“I guess you've already heard the news from the Doc,” Seifer said, falling into step beside Nida. Well, not quite in step because every third or so step Nida found himself limping a little. Still, Seifer tried, and Nida had to give him points for it.

“No, from Squall last night,” Nida said, focusing on the walk and willing the pain in his leg to go away.

“Last night? No one found the body until this morning.”

That, not the tingling pain, made Nida all but trip over his own feet, saved from sprawling out on the floor only by Seifer's quick reactions and willingness to catch him.

“Body? What body? Who...”

“Andria. They found her dead this morning. One of the guard SeeDs came in this morning to deliver her breakfast. Found her in bed, looking almost... I think the word she used was 'serene.' Apparently she was poisoned at some point in the night. Weird thing is that no one had been in to see her all evening, not since Squall left. People think someone slipped something into her food. Kitchen staff prepared it with two SeeDs watching over them, so we don't think it happened there. The SeeDs who carried it to the guards say they didn't do it, and the same with the guards who took it in. No one knows what happened.”

“Surely there are security tapes that could explain it,” Nida offered, though obviously there wasn't if they didn't know what happened. Either that or Xu had only found out herself and was still working with the detailed analysis of the tapes.

Seifer shook his head and sighed as he helped Nida stand on his own again. “Someone or something killed the security system last night after Squall left.”

It was all Nida could do not to swear. If he had then that would have been attention he wasn't putting on walking, which was really the more pressing issue at hand right now.

“To be honest, I have to wonder what it is that Squall told you which we haven't been gifted with yet. Must have been important if you thought it was the news I was talking about, but lower on the crisis list than what Squall's already told us this morning. Still, you'll tell me what it is, right?”

Nida shook his head. What was and wasn't his place to tell was no longer something so easily figured out. Better to let Squall do whatever he planned and just follow him obediently. It was easier that way, wasn't it? Easier than thinking, acting, even remembering. Surely it had to be better to be a mindless soldier than a commander who had to think. Responsibility didn't really come down upon you then, did it?

“Hey, you there Nida? You're kind of zoning out on me. And I don't think either of us want me to have to carry you to the meeting because of it.”

“Do it and I'll make sure you regret it,” Nida hissed, snapping back to attention, trying to ignore the resurgence of the most recent dream.

“See, now that is more of what I wanted to hear. Come on. The others are sure to be waiting for our amazing presences to grace them.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Seifer. Last time I checked, Zell still wanted to deck you, Irvine still wanted to shoot me, and Squall was pissed at us both for insubordination.”

“Well, two of those are right. Last meeting I was at Irvine was more regarding you than homicidal. Maybe it was the pity from you being poisoned and all of that. In fact, a lot of the 'Orphanage Gang,' as Selphie likes to say, are thinking you might not be so much with the Zebalgans after my report on Joshua's behavior and the whole poison thing. You've become more of an objective to some of them. Sorta like 'protect this object until otherwise ordered' sort of deal.”

“Wonderful. Just what I needed, to stop being a person in their eyes.”

“Oh no, you're still a person, even a friend to a few of them. You're just an important person that must be protected.”

“So I'm going to be part of the biggest protection contract SeeD has ever taken, not to mention part of a war.”

Seifer nodded, grinning that damn annoying grin of his. “Couldn't have put it better myself. Still, you're not out of hot water yet. Neither of us are. Apparently Squall had a video conference with the Inter-Garden Council last night. About what is to be done with you.”

“Great, so my fate may be in the hands of several SeeDs I've never met, Headmasters I'll never know,  _and_ I likely have only Cid Kramer and Squall in my defense? Can't you just shoot me now?”

“Nida... If I wanted you dead, you'd already have been dead several times over by now, don't you think?”

“Yeah, but I don't have to like it.”

“No, you never do,” Seifer agreed, starting them again in the direction of the elevator. “There is never anything worth liking in a war. Not even yourself.”

Horribly enlightened words from Almasy. Those, on top of Squall's from last night, well... None of this was really going to go anywhere near as well as anyone could have hoped for.

“Hyne, let no new problems crop up before we get there. I'd rather take them sitting down,” Nida said at last, which got a sigh from Seifer.

“Haven't you ever learned anything, Nidulus? Never hope that bad things won't happen. It's the quickest way to make sure that they do.”

“Well, so long as they don't happen to me, I think I can put up with it.”

“We'll see.”

 

* * * * * *

 

“Anyone else feel like the world is out to screw us?” Zell sighed. The blond looked just about as tired as Nida felt, which meant he looked like shit. Well, honestly, that was being kind. Apparently between watching over Nida and the murder the blond hadn't gotten much of a chance for sleep.

In fact, no one really looked like they had managed much sleep, save Squall. Nida was pretty sure that Squall could go days on only potions and still look as if he'd had eight hours. Selphie lacked her usual perkiness and for once was sitting still in her seat. Irvine had abandoned his hat, and Nida could see the way his eyes were all but bloodshot. Xu's head was nodding regularly, falling closer and closer to sleep. Quistis was the one who looked worst, though. Her clothes were disheveled, her hair falling out of its clips, and almost looking a little pale as well. Seifer, likely as not, was the only one who had gotten a real night's rest.

“No, but I do have the nagging suspicion that there is a plot to cut into your beauty sleep, Chicken,” Seifer said, smirking. “And boy could you use it. So, apparently your hair defying gravity isn't natural. Who would have thought.”

For a second there was the usual righteous indignation in Zell's eyes, but it quickly faded from the fatigue.

“Only you could sleep through these crises,” Irvine snapped at Seifer, but the blond only smiled in response.

“At this rate the Zebalgans are going to win by superior amount of sleep alone,” Selphie agreed, moving her head to rest upon the cushion of her arms on the table.

“A sound strategy if I've ever heard one,” Quistis agreed.

“They aren't going to win that way,” Nida sighed. “They'll whittle away at our forces with their superior numbers, destroy our best with deceit and poison, and laugh while they are at it.”

That brought the eyes of the others in the room to Nida, most of them looking on in shock. Apparently a side effect of the not sleeping enough was that they had already forgotten that they had been shocked to see him escorted in by Seifer. Really, could they be blamed when he had spent the better part of the last two days in the infirmary.

“How's your leg?” Selphie finally asked, breaking the silence that occasionally wove itself into the room as Squall was working to get all his papers in order and everything prepared for the briefing.

“Stings,” Nida admitted, rubbing at his leg. “But that doesn't matter. There are far more important things at work here.”

“Such as? Other than Andria being dead?” Quistis asked.

“Lena was found dead about ten minutes ago,” Squall announced, finally inserting himself into the conversation. “We've lost both of our sources of information.”

“Fuck,” Zell hissed, almost slamming his fist into the table. Just before the contact, though, he remembered himself and pulled the punch.

“That seals it,” Seifer said with a sigh, moving to put his feet upon the table. “We've got someone on their side in Garden.”

“As much as I hate it, I agree,” Squall said, shaking his head. “Kadowaki hasn't had the time to examine her yet, but she believes the poison is the same.”

“So we've not only got a traitor, but a poisoner. Great levels of cowardice there.”

The words weren't a shock, nor the sentiment behind them. What really put Nida off guard was the fact that it came from Selphie. She was normally so kind, so accepting, so willing to defend even enemies until they proved themselves unworthy. For her to be against the person from the start was unheard of.

“Regardless, more care has to be taken if we take more prisoners,” Squall continued. “We did manage, though, to acquire some knowledge from Andria before her death.”

Most of the people around the table seemed to perk up at this. Nida, though, doubted there would be anything more than he had heard the night before.

“It seems that Andria, like the others in the group of the eight robed people, had a specific set of responsibilities. These are, as Nida earlier suggested, tied to their robe colors. A portion of the average Zebalgans are assigned as part of the groups of colors. Boyce's white symbolizes his role not only as a supposed descendant of the ancient king, but also as the leader of the people and head general. Elijah's red marks him as a combat specialist and assassin. She wouldn't confirm whether Joshua was a member of the council or not, but we believe he was.”

“That was all you learned? Color roles that may or may not be true?” Xu demanded, looking more frustrated than Nida would have expected.

Squall shook his head. “She wouldn't offer the other members of the council, but she did give what the symbolism of the colors were. Andria's own role, gray if you are curious, was that of archivist and historian. No one apparently knew their histories better, or more information on how the group was organized. Whether this is true or not we do not know, but we have obviously lost an important resource. Lena as well. She was apparently a gray. Still we know that black represents strategists, yellow are researchers and specialists, blue are espionage and recon, green are combat training and military leaders, and brown is for a variety of tasks, such as establishing supply lines, dealing with construction, and other tasks.”

“And there is no way to figure out who does what without them telling us?” Quistis asked.

Squall shook his head. “This was all we were able to get before her death. Apparently, though, the eight council members were all stationed in different places, meant to exert control over regions, gain power and influence, and observe what was happening. Boyce in Trabia, Elijah in Balamb, and Andria in Winhill. If Joshua represented Galbadia, then we will likely find some leaders in Dollet, Timber, Esthar, and Fisherman's Horizon.”

“Not likely,” Irvine cut in. “A Single man responsible for all of Esthar is understandable, there is little outside of the city. But Galbadia... Between all of the small towns and villages, cities, Deling City itself, and the Garden... No way. I'd say it's more likely that there is a second person in Galbadia than, say, FH.”

“I have to agree,” Seifer said, frowning. “What we took Galbadia, we had to assign a second officer just to deal with the Deling area when we moved on to the Garden. It's too hard to control otherwise. And honestly, it's probably more important for them to have representatives in the Gardens and major cities.”

“Before Trabia Garden was attacked, it was pretty large as well,” Selphie agreed. “I bet Boyce was responsible just for the Garden.”

“While there is no way to be sure, we will keep this in mind,” Squall said, shuffling his papers. “Unfortunately there is little more we know now that we have lost Andria.”

“Yeah, too bad we don't have one of those history and knowledge specialists ourselves,” Zell said, running a hand through his hair. “It'd be cool if we knew more about the Zebalgans and all that.”

The whole room grew silent, and even Nida found his eyes drawn to Zell. It was a stupid idea, but stupid enough to be something worth considering. Was it possible that some old college professor or something specialized in the history of the lost Zebalgan peoples? One that wasn't a Zebalgan themselves? Surely there were old records left behind by other cultures, things that might give them some sort of clues. Things that might give them some way to know how they would act, or even where these people might set up a base.

“You know what, Chicken,” Seifer said, taking his feet from the table and smiling as he leaned over the table, staring hard at Zell. “You might have had the stupidest good idea ever.”

“It might work,” Quistis agreed. “I'll start searching for historians after the meeting.”

“Nida can help you,” Squall offered, and Nida was just thankful that someone at least was going to let him work in some way. “Now, to move on. Doctor Kadowaki recently got in contact with an Esthari researcher named Veringas. What he had to say was rather interesting...”

Holding back a yawn, Nida leaned back in his chair. This at least was a part he had already heard, and the struggle now would be to stay awake, not letting the old information bore him into a dream he couldn't handle right now. There was no way Nida wanted to see that horrible dream again, much less more of it. If someone was going to die, it was better for him not to know who.


	19. Chapter 15

“So this is how the other half lives,” Nida mused as he shifted yet again in the too hard chair he had taken for himself—turned, of course, to face the door. For a moment he took his eyes from the closed door, letting his gaze dance around the room. There was little to speak of, a too large wooden desk, bookshelves filled to overflowing at almost every wall, small windows shaded with old faux-wood blinds, and little enough room for two people on this side of the desk. In fact, there was only one chair this side of the desk, and despite his best efforts, Nida hadn't been able to get Quistis to sit. Whether it was because she was nervous or because she preferred to be able to use her whip is Nida didn't behave, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he hardly expected an answer.

“Other half?” Quistis asked, quite happy to surprise him.

“The ones not trained in killing since childhood,” Nida said, though he was almost nervous about putting the idea out there. “The ones who go to high school, to college, to normal jobs beyond that. What must it be like to wake up every morning of this conflict and be sure someone else is going to make it better for you?”

“It's hardly a life I'd want for myself,” Quistis countered, shaking her head as if she could not even begin to fathom Nida's words. “To stand idly by, putting my life in other people's hands, and do nothing myself? I could never live such a way.”

“This kind of life is really all you've ever known, right?” Nida observed. “You've been in Garden since you were, what, eight? I was eleven, used to a quiet life, used to other people handling problems. The very idea of Garden scared me. And I can only imagine what it looks like to older people. Child soldiers, training child soldiers as replacements, and sending them all out to war. What we do must be sickening to some people. It's a wonder that more people haven't protested against us.”

“Many of the students who join us at an age like mine are orphans. Who would speak for them?” Quistis asked. “Who would question the organization that has often saved them personally, and has saved the whole of the world once?”

For that Nida had no answer, and he was left silent in the chair, contemplating Quistis's words. Was it really as simple as that? That no one spoke up because there either wasn't anyone, or there weren't people who wanted to hamper the effectiveness of the mercenary group? It was almost too sad to think about.

Nida was still deep in contemplation when the sound of the doorknob jiggling caught his attention. When he looked up he could already see Quistis stationing herself by the door, whip clenched tightly in her hands. With her ready to strike if things turned violent, Nida was left with nothing more to do than sit there, serving as a bit of a distraction. He swallowed back a sigh and leaned back in his chair, striving to look relaxed in a way that he did not feel. Yet even as he changed his position, shifting so that he was actually leaning back in the chair, Nida couldn't help but think how cliched this all felt. There had been nights these last months when he'd stayed up late with Irvine and/or Zell, watching old movies about cowboys or hard-boiled detectives, who would come back to their office to find the bad guy they were looking for sitting there, casually, as if to say 'see, I can get to you anywhere.'

Cliché or not, there was little else for Nida to do. The man this office was assigned to didn't know they were here after all, nor did anyone else in the history department at the University of Deling City. There was, after all, a chance that this man or another who knew him was a Zebalgan. Better to not risk it and get the man when he was not expecting it. And so here Nida sat, well aware of how he would look when the man came in, and he waited for the man to unlock the door that Quistis had relocked after she'd had Nida pick it to get in here. At last the lock clicked back and the door started to open. The light that came in through the door was almost enough to blind him after so long in a darkened room, and Nida was thankful that whoever had opened the door seemed to have not noticed his presence. Instead the man, for that was the sound of the voice at the door, had turned back to speak to someone else, and his arm reached in to flick on the switch even as he bid whoever he was speaking to farewell.

Then the man was in the room, door closed behind him, and Quistis's whip around his throat. The stone gray eyes of the old man were wide with something that wasn't quite shock. There was definitely surprise there, but an odd acceptance mixed into it. This man had expected their arrival, there was no doubting that fact.

“Doctor Munroe,” Nida said, trying to sound friendly even though he felt a bit guilty for what the man was going through. Still, there was no point in destroying the image they were trying to create here, so Nida slowly rose and took care to straighten out his SeeD uniform once he was standing. Only then did he look up and smile at the Professor and resume speaking. “I'm...”

“Yes, yes, I know. You're Nida Nomura, the Heir, and you've come to ask me about the history of the Zebalgans,” the old man said, his words giving Nida as much surprise as how calmly they came out. “And I'd happily tell you everything I know if you would only have Ms. Trepe release me.”

Quistis regained her composure far quicker than Nida did, and even as he continued to stare at the old man, she was unwinding her whip and mumbling only the most fleeting of apologies. Munroe only waved them off, as if hey had no time for such a thing, and quickly shuffled past her and towards his desk. As Nida finally finished shaking off his shock, the old professor had opened a locked drawer in his desk and pulled out several large files.

“How did you know...?” Nida started to ask, but Munroe waved that question off as quickly as he has Quistis's apology.

“Come now, do you really think that I would be so caught up in ancient texts and excavations as to fail to keep up with the modern news? Who does not know the name and face of Ms. Trepe, one of the heroes of the world? And you, Mister Nomura, are becoming quite well known yourself, considering the announced aims of the Zebalgan people. Yes, I dare say I know more of you and your goal here than you know of me.”

From the way the man was acting, Nida was about as certain of that as Doctor Munroe was himself. All he really knew of the man was that he was one of the few scholars who studied Zebalgan history, and that he was not only a professor, but held a doctorate in history at the same university that he now served as a tenured professor at. That, and there was the fact that none of the other historians they had heard of who specialized in Zebalgan history seemed to be around anymore. All of them, so far as Nida could tell, has gone missing save for Munroe himself.

“And you supposed that SeeD would eventually come to you for your information?” Quistis asked, and Munroe just chuckled in response.

“It was only a matter of time, my dear. While I personally missed the broadcast that announced their return, I heard students speaking of it afterward, and began to prepare myself for your need. At the time, though, I did not expect to find SeeD coming to my door save as an afterthought. While it pains me to admit it, there were always those who had found more, knew more of the Zebalgans than I did, or at least had what I knew to be better—though unfounded—theories on the Zebalgans of ancient and modern times. Yet the longer it took for your people to seek out information, the more likely it became that you would come to my door...”

“Why do you say that, Doctor Munroe?” Nida asked, though he already thought he knew the answer.

“Quite simple, my boy. The longer it took you to seek out information, the more of my colleagues went missing. At this point I feel that it is quite clear that their interest in the history was not due to scholarship alone. Rather, I believe that they were interested for they, themselves, were Zebalgans.”

The man's conclusion came as no real surprise to Nida—or, as likely as not, to Quistis—for it was one they had come to on their own. There seemed no better explanation for the disappearances of the other scholars than that, which meant that Munroe was all the more important to them.

“It seems that you have the gist of the situation,” Quistis agreed. “I suppose that you can understand just why it is so important that we learn everything we can from you.”

“Of course. That is why I have been collecting everything I could get my hands on these last few months. Transcribed conversations between myself and whatever other scholars I have had since the first video. What unpublished findings they had from their current work. Even private files that I managed to bribe others to acquire. While it is hardly as much as you could want, it should become some use to SeeD and the war effort.”

“Do you really think there's anything in there that is going to help us?” Nida asked, far more reluctant to believe what Munroe was telling him when the man was giving the information so freely. “Honestly, I have trouble believing that you're not a Zebalgan left behind to distract us.”

Munroe chuckled at that. “I applaud your caution, it is a laudable trait in one of a position as important as yours, Mister Nomura. From what I understand, these people will stop at nothing to have you, and the power you represent to them, in their hands. While I doubt that my words alone will convince you of my sincerity, I assure you that while I am fascinated in Zebalgan history, I have learned enough of them to fear what would come of them being in power. What few people know, or remember rather, is that the Zebalgans controlled the last true empire known to the world. That empire was not only one of the most powerful in the whole of our history, but also one of the cruelest to those they deemed lesser than those of their blood.”

“Empire?” Quistis said, looking a bit confused. “I thought that the last empire was the Centran Empire, which came to an end around four-thousand years ago.”

“Yes. The history classes we had to take said that their people split into three groups: those who remained on the Centran continent until they destroyed themselves and the land 80 years ago with the Lunar Cry; the far smaller group that founded Dollet; and the largest group which settled in the Esthari plains and built that country,” Nida added.

“I have long held that such foolishness should no longer be taught to our children. Alas, no one cares for the opinion of an old scholar. The truth, so far as we determined from excavations, is that the Centran Empire actually survived in some form until about a hundred years ago. At that point they seemed to have sought more power, to restore the glory of the empire that had been severely weakened by the splinter groups which went to Dollet and Esthar, and began to excavate an ancient weapon: the Crystal Pillar. This is said in their histories to be part of the corrupted body of Hyne, which the god left behind when he fled before humanity's attacks upon him in ancient times, whereas other cultures refer to it as a weapon they created from the magic that existed in the time of legends. Either way they sought to use this weapon to strike at the world and regain their glory. Sadly they either did not understand the Crystal Pillar, or could not properly control it, which led to the destruction of the last of their empire and the vast damage we now see of the former continent, rendering it into something more like a collection of isles and slightly larger land masses...”

“Woah, woah,” Nida said, raising his hands before him to stop Munroe. “That's a lot for anyone to digest, even if we believed you without hesitation. Mind giving us a moment or two to think? You're kind of suggesting a whole new world view, you do realize that, right?”

“Of course. My compatriots always waved the ideas off, suggesting that it was foolish, but I believe that was less because they believed it than because they did not want such ideas being common knowledge. It would tell people the truth of the fact that the Centran culture was in fact descended from the ancient Zebalgan peoples, and were likely still alive today. They never responded to the ideas with dissent, not heartfelt dissent anyway. There was always a bit of shock and fear when I spoke of it.”

“I can understand why,” Quistis said, shaking her head. “This is hardly something that has ever been suggested before, and I'm not sure that I'm even ready to believe it, as reasonable as it sounds.”

“At least it gives us a bit of what we hoped to find here,” Nida said, moving forward to take the files that Munroe had placed on his desk.

“And just what was that, Mister Nomura?”

“A place where they might be hiding,” Nida said, turning his attention towards Quistis. She nodded in agreement, a serious look on her face that implied to him that she'd quite likely be contacting Squall with this information long before they ever made their way out of the building. Soon enough what methods of surveillance that were open to them would be directed at the ruined continent of Centra. With luck, they would find what they needed quickly, especially with Esthar's help.

“Well, I'm sure there will be more within those files to help you than you expect,” Munroe said, finally sitting in the chair behind his desk. “But, if I may say this Mister Nomura, do not allow yourself to fall into the hands of these people. If the Crystal Pillar is any indication of the power that may be inherent within Hyne, if it really is a piece of the corrupted half of the god's body, what you could lead them to might serve as the very destruction of this world. Never, ever, should the power of a God, if one truly exists, fall into the hands of a people as savage as the Zebalgans have always been known to be. Trust me on this.”

All Nida could do was nod as he turned away from Munroe, and follow Quistis to the door. While he had been reluctant to let himself be taken in by the Zebalgans before, with the idea that being captured could lead to something worse than the Lunar Cry—which they were still dealing with the results of now—made Nida fearful.

 

* * * * * *

 

Night was a time that Nida had come to love in Balamb Garden. During the war he had taken to wandering at night, often times up to the bridge so he could look out clearly upon the stars. From the bridge there was less light from the rings of the Garden to block the view, and Nida had always loved the stars. It had been a sight Nida had been forbidden from ever since this whole Zebalgan mess had started, and while he was still forbidden from the bridge now, at least upon his return from the University of Deling, he had been given some freedom. Squall had finally and openly decreed that Nida was to be trusted, and at last he had been given freedom to roam through most of the Garden. So now, alone in the silence of night, Nida found himself making use of that freedom, wandering as he had been prone to.

Few people moved through the Garden at night, leaving the place empty in a way that made Nida long for something he couldn't quite put into words. Company wasn't quite right, it was hardly like he was looking for attention or even the kinds of conversation that might be offered him, but the emptiness still left him feeling odd. That was one thing he had always enjoyed about Garden: even when you were alone there were still other people there, somewhere on the edges of your awareness, making you feel comforted or something similar. At night, though, most people were tucked either safely away in their beds, or behind some door doing work. It left Nida alone, following wherever his feet chose to carry him.

“Excuse me, young man, but perhaps you could assist me,” a voice suddenly came from over his shoulder, causing Nida to freeze in his steps. Normally someone calling out to him at night would hardly pause him, but there was something about the speaker, their voice unfamiliar and their words almost pressing, that made him stop.

When he turned he found a face as unfamiliar as the voice, and the man looking at him seemed almost expectant. The person he saw was a man that looked to be about Laguna's age, with short cropped brown hair and kind green eyes half hidden behind a pair of small glasses. The man smiled as he strode the few steps that separated him from Nida, and then held out his hand for Nida to shake.

“Forgive me for my rudeness. I should have introduced myself before calling out. My name is Michel Veringas, and I believe, by the look of you and how you carry yourself, that you are indeed one of the SeeD mercenaries, are you not?”

Nida could do little more than stare at the man for a moment, utterly shocked by the man. This was the famous scientist that Kadowaki had been talking about? The man looked nothing like what Nida had expected. Veringas did not look the part of a scientist, not dressed as he was in simple black slacks and a t-shirt that advertised some popular Esthari soft-drink. From what Kadowaki had said, Nida had expected a man as distinguished as Odine was pompous.

“I'm sorry, have I said something to cause you shock? From the look on your face I have obviously caught you off guard. I fear I must assume that you have heard of me, and thus I have not lived up to your expectations, correct? Too often to I earn such a reaction. I almost feel I should take up some kind of different appearance or something to better introduce myself to others...” the man said, sighing as he spoke.

“Forgive me, sir, but I just wasn't expecting you to,” Nida started to say, but Veringas shook his head, seeming undisturbed by this.

“Yes, I did not exactly try to make my arrival here well know. I asked those who knew of my coming to keep my presence quiet until I could start my research. Which is actually why I called out to you, young man. I am here to not only explore the Lost Guardian forces—perchance you have heard of them—and to see if I can make those known to SeeD more effective. I was told that I would be able to make use of one of the SeeDs here to assist me. His name was, ah yes, something Nemera I think. Would you happen to know where this Nemera is? The Commander told me that he would be directed to me come the morning, but I just cannot bear to waste this time as, due to my changing of timezones, I am hardly prepared to sleep yet.”

Nemera? Nida couldn't help but shake his head. Trust Squall to not only offer him up to this man without asking, but to fail to make sure the man even got the name right.

“It's Nomura,” Nida corrected, “And what could you possibly achieve at this hour?”

“Ah, so you know the man? Good. I would like for you to fetch him as quickly as possible. The care of the Lost GF that the SeeDs found has been given over to me, as well as a few others, for my study. I would prefer to get to it now, not wasting any time. Please...”

“Other GFs?” Nida found himself asking, almost hopeful. How long had it been since he'd been allowed to junction? Was this Squall's way of allowing him to defend himself? And would Squall dare to give Veringas the right to use the one that Nida shared the closest connection to?

“Yes. But really, it is something to be discussed between me and the young man who is supposed to help me.”

“Then please, share, because I'm the one you're looking for. Nida Nomura, at your service, Doctor Veringas.”

That brought a smile to the scientist's face.


	20. Chapter 16

“Coffee,” Nida said, holding out a steaming mug to Veringas as he sat in one of the empty chairs in the living room. It seemed like half a life-time ago when he had been held in this very room, slowly deprived of anything that could have been a weapon. Now here he sat, a mug of scalding hot coffee in hand and sitting with a man who could restore to him the ability to junction. How could it only have been a few days?

“I thank you,” the man said, taking the coffee when offered, but never looking up from the the coffee table.

A small collection of silver charms were arrayed on the table, laid out there by Veringas as Nida had been preparing coffee. The charms were made of different gauges of silver wire and a variety of silver beads, and they looked to be in various stages of completion. Some of the charms evoked very specific ideas, such as one which seemed to call to mind a simple snowflake. Others were too vague for Nida to identify, like a series of spiraling lines with beads upon them at odd intervals. Yet the one which held Nida's attention the most was a miniature harp that Nida recognized as the one that Siren bore. This charm, like only two others, seemed to be giving off a pale blue light much like that of Squall's Lionheart.

“That is Siren,” Veringas said, causing Nida to look up from the silver harp.

“Yes, that is definitely her harp,” Nida agreed. “Whoever made this is quite the artist...”

“I thank you for the compliment. It is a bit of a hobby of mine, which I find has adapted itself well to my research.”

“Research?” Nida asked, not sure whether he should be more shocked at the leading scholar on GFs was also a bit of a jewelry maker.

“As I said, that harp _is_ Siren. The essence of her is within the metal and beads. This is a manner I devised for the storing of Guardians without Junctioning them. I hope that this will prove to be a way with SeeDs can carry GFs without constant Junctioning damaging their memory,” Veringas said. “You can tell is the charm is occupied by the sheen the metal takes on when they go into charm. It can take months to find a form that is pleasing to a Class 1 GF, longer to find it for a Class 2, and I have only just acquired a Class 3 to try and create one for. Anything higher than that, I do not even know how I could come to create something to please those.”

Nida frowned and sipped at his coffee, using it to buy him some time to think. In only a few minutes Veringas had managed to challenge Nida's way of thinking about GFs. He knew that they could be junctioned upon anyone with training, and could even reside within the minds of men and monsters who didn't even realize the creature were present. There were even circumstances where GFs could be found taking on physical forms, such as Squall and the others had found of Bahamut, Tonberry King, and a few others. Yet, when he thought of it, there had been a few items that GFs had been found to be bonded to. Doomtrain and the Ring of Solomon, Diablos and the Magic Lamp, and Phoenix and the Pinions. Still, from what he understood, once the GFs had been called out been called from the items, they did not return to them. Still, Veringas was suggesting that they could store any GFs into these silver charms?

“What do you mean by classes of GFs?” Nida asked, latching onto a simpler topic.

“Ah, yes, sometimes I forget that others are either not aware of, or do not abide by my own classification systems. I have, in the past year, set out to sort the GFs I have worked with into classes which describe not only their relative power levels, but other factors such as ability to be summoned, junctioned, or manifest physical forms of their own accord. Siren, in the manifestation which has been given over to my care by the SeeD Commander, is a Class 2 GF. In fact, most of those GFs under the control of the senior level SeeDs here in Balamb are Class 2 or higher. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me begin with Class 1 GFs. Class 1 is comprised of those GFs which are not, in all truth, genuine GFs. A majority of those GFs controlled by the Gardens are Class 1.”

This time Nida froze, his mug of coffee halfway to his mouth. “Wait, are you saying that we don't even control as many GFs as we think?”

“No, not exactly. The Gardens have the number of GFs they say they have, but they do not, in truth,  _have_ that many. A majority of those GFs which are controlled by Garden are, as you know, of limited strength when compared to others. For instance, if the form of Shiva that is controlled by your Commander were to be compared to any of those controlled by other SeeDs, you would deem his a far stronger force. His form of Shiva doesn't have the summoning limitations other Shivas have, for his is the  _true_ Shiva, a Class 2 GF. Those controlled by the others are actually  _mimicries_ of the true Shiva. Some of these mimicries were created in my work with Odine many years ago, others just seem to manifest within the possession of monsters or people. These Class 1 GFs are not as strong, cannot enhance abilities quite so powerfully as a higher level, true GF can, and as they lack the intelligence of higher class GFs, I hypothesize that they do not damage the memory in the same manner.

“Class 1 GFs are thus, easier to acquire and work with than other GFs, and are the main reason why my theory of how and why GFs damage long term memory is often discounted. There is a vast difference, though, between a Class 2 GF and a Class 1, a far wider gap than there is between any other levels. Class 2 Guardians are self-aware, intelligent truly, and can physically manifest outside of battles, though they are not as prone to it as Class 3. Shiva, Ifrit, Siren, these are all examples of such a level of GFs, and they are all capable of damaging the memories of those who junction them. This is because the whole essence of a GF's own mind must exist within a junctioner's mind, and they take up the place where there is the most room for them: the place where memory resides.”

“I can at least attest to some of the intelligence of GFs,” Nida said, and even as he spoke he could see Veringas's face light up. “During some of my training sessions with the other SeeDs, we used our GFs to keep the time on our competitions. Each of us would direct our GFs to tell us when a certain amount of time had passed, and they were often more reliable than clocks or other things.”

“And they speak to you, in your minds?” the researcher prompted, obviously eager to learn more.

“Yes, but always simply. They don't talk much.”

“I think that is only because the SeeDs haven't reached out to them, and I believe you should. That is why I asked for a SeeD and the GF they were most closely bonded with, and why I was given you and Siren. I am also here to research the Class 3 GF that was acquired from the Zebalgans.”

“What is the difference between Class 3 and Class 2?”

“Class 3 GFs, like Bahamut, can actively manifest outside of battle for extended periods of time, and don't seem to fully need bonding to a human or monster to thrive. They are some of the more physically and magically powerful creatures. I believe a majority of the Lost Guardians are also Class 3 GFs, which no mimicries can be made of. As for Class 4, these are those spirits like Phoenix, Gilgamesh, and other GFs which cannot be junctioned, yet I fear my divisions are flawed, and that some which I would mark as Class 3s are Class 4s. Eden, for instance, is one of those which I suspect of this. But that is hardly something I care to discuss as this point, it is a pet theory that needs more revision. My work with you has another purpose. I wish to build the connection between a Guardian and one junctioning them. I believe that building such bonds might be useful in allowing more effective use of GFs.”

“I'm not quite sure I understand what you want,” Nida admitted, shaking his head, “but if the Commander thinks I can assist you then I will do my best for you, Doctor Veringas.”

The man chuckled, and set aside his coffee. Smile in place he picked up the faintly glowing silver harp and threaded it onto a simple metal chain. With that done he held the two out to Nida, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I believe you have this wrong, Nida. This was not arranged as it was between the Commander and myself solely that I might have assistance with my research, or that he might have the benefit of whatever I discover. You in particular were chosen so that this could be given to you.”

Leave it to Squall to find another way to protect Nida, all in a manner that no one could truly protest. Still, this was by far the method that Nida preferred. Seifer's protection had been useful, but there was really nothing quite like the strength and comfort that Siren's presence offered him. While she wasn't as good as some other GFs for boosting his personal abilities, but she had other benefits. Siren boosted his relatively meager magic skill, heightened his senses—through an ability called 'Move-Find' but referred to by SeeDs as 'Search'—and she always came quickly to his call. It was like having another SeeD at his side, but one who always offered him a sense of welcome and devotion.

“The Commander told me that this was the GF that you are most closely bonded with. I require such a close connection for my research, but he felt that it would also serve as a line of protection for you.”

“Yes,” Nida agreed, carefully placing the necklace over his head, and unable to do anything but smile as he felt a strange, tingling warmth from the metal even through his shirt. “I was not exposed to her until after the war, and she was only placed in my care for a SeeD practical exam. I was to work with the GF and small collection of random spells I was given to deal with a staged situation. My examiners were shocked when I found myself forced to summon, and Siren responded to my call only a breath after I took up the summoning. Squall said it was the best initial bond he'd ever seen from a pair. Now I can call her forth almost as quickly as Squall can Shiva...”

“I was initially hoping to work with him, of course,” Veringas admitted. “Even though I have been working with little interaction with the outside world, even I had managed to hear of the bond your Commander has for the Ice Queen. I admit when I first derived the method of summoning, I never expected to find a situation where a GF would leap forth almost before their summoner could finish framing the call within their mind.”

“Squall is...” Nida hesitated for a moment, unsure how to put what he was thinking into words. “Unique.”

“I must agree with you there. Still, I believe that current revelations mark you as worthy of the word as him, and your bond with Siren is comparable from my understanding. We shall work together well, the three of us.

Nida smiled and raised his mug of coffee in a brief toast, which Veringas was more than happy to oblige him in.

 

* * * * * *

 

_Behind you, my hawk. They come._

Nida whirled on his heels, bringing his paired tambo up before him, one close enough to his body to take any blows, the other out enough to move into any position he might need. No sooner had he taken up his stance than he felt the brush of air that came only a hair before the blow. Yet the blow didn't land on one of his metal tambo which would have rather harmlessly absorbed the strike. Instead he got the hit full in the shoulder and flinched away.

“ _Hyne!_ ” Nida hissed in pain, stumbling back a bit and lifting one hand still holding a tambo to rub his shoulder. “Do you have to hit so hard?” 

“How else will you ever learn?” was the question asked in response, and the voice behind it was the all too familiar and all too smug one that Nida knew to be Seifer's. It was, at least, a kind of answer, and even told him which of the two he was facing had dealt the blow. While he'd expected that it wasn't Selphie, the blindfold he was wearing did enough to make it hard to tell her nunchaku from the heavy wooden gunblade that Seifer was using.

“You should be a bit nicer,” Selphie said, coming to Nida's defense, though he could only barely hear her through the earplugs he had on. “I don't think you'd be able to do any better than he has.”

_I cannot see Ifrit having the patience needed to teach his wolf pup how to respond properly, nor do I believe that the pup can put the faith needed into his Guardian at this point,_ a sweet, near-musical voice echoed in Nida's head. It was the same voice which had tried to warn him of the attack, the same that he had heard countless times before lifted in a song that blended with harp music and left all that heard it speechless. 

Hers was a voice he had heard more and more in the three days since Veringas had come to Garden, and one that he reveled in the sound of. Before Veringas had set Nida to the various tasks that his research entailed, Nida had rarely ever heard the voice of Siren in his mind. Now, though, he had no doubt that what the scientist had said about the sentience and sheer level of intelligence of the GFs was utterly true. Already Nida had indulged in late night conversations with the ethereal woman as he lay in his bed at night, too afraid to go to sleep lest he dream.

“Siren agrees,” Nida said, more than willing to share the GF's words with Selphie. It helped that he could justify the choice with the fact that Veringas was sitting nearby, taking notes on everything, even the GF's words when Nida offered them. Veringas had taken particular interest to the GF's opinions on the current experiment, but he was always eager for Siren's observations on other people and Guardians. For some reason her nicknames for those she encountered always put a pensive look on Veringas's face and led to some hasty scribbling of notes.

“Yeah, and I'm going to believe that wasn't just something you...” Seifer started to say, but Nida lost the rest as the gunblader trailed off. The earplugs meant he couldn't hear half of what he was used to.

_He has trailed off, I believe, because Ifrit is more than willing to agree with me upon this topic,_ Siren offered.  _As competitive as he is, Ifrit must admit that my ability to act through you is greater than his to act through the wolf. What is more, he is unwilling to reveal the fact that my abilities to sense things outside of myself are far superior to his._

While Nida only had Siren's word for it, he was more than happy to put his faith into Siren on this. The very purpose of this experiment was to see how well Siren could sense things that the person she was paired with couldn't, and to see how well she could pass on instructions from what she sensed. It helped, Nida supposed, that he was used to the heightened sight and hearing that she offered him, and thus to reacting to the slightest sounds. Yet Siren was almost impressing him with how quickly she was picking up on how to direct him. The fact that in the whole thirty minutes that they had been fighting like this Siren had gone from barely being able to figure out how to direct Nida to directing him such that he got hurt only one attack out of every three. 

_Give me credit, little hawk. I had not been called upon to do such a thing in quite some time. I must adjust. Consider going from barely rousing yourself from sleep each day to being called upon to perform high end theoretical math in a ten minute period. Such is how I feel. In time I will make a suitable companion for you._

The only disadvantage to this whole thing was the fact that Siren was now privy to all of his thoughts, private or not, and she was not beyond putting her opinions forth at every possible opportunity.

_Surely it cannot be a bad thing to have someone to keep you company as I do_ , Siren said, a sad edge to her voice.

_I am glad of the company,_ he admitted, specifically framing the thoughts for her,  _but you're a dreadful gossip with no one to gossip_ with _. I've never really been the kind of person to enjoy that kind of thing._

_I'll cure you of that silliness yet, my hawk_ .

Nida sighed and shook his head, finally reaching up to push his blindfold from his eyes. “Guys, I'm getting a bit sore from all of this. Would you mind taking a break?”

“I need some time to set my notes together,” Veringas said as Nida removed his earplugs. “You may all take time as you need it.”

“Well, I for one was impressed, Nida,” Selphie said, coming over to take Nida's tambo so that he could remove the padded training clothes that they had given him. “How were you doing it?”

“It wasn't me. Well, not only me. I was mainly just reacting to what Siren told me.”

“It must be so awesome to be able to speak with your GFs!” Selphie said as she held out her arms to accept the training clothes. “Quez and Carbie never talk to me. How not fair!”

_I almost pity her,_ Siren said, chuckling.  _If you think that I'm prone to talking, you should see Carbuncle. Once that one awakens I expect you will see him shadowing Selphie everywhere, and her going on like a gossipy starling._

_Shadowing Selphie?_

_Have you not been taking the Wise One's words to heart?_ Siren asked, and Nida knew that she had to be referring to Veringas. The man would be happy to know Siren's newly given nickname for him.  _We can manifest outside of combat you know. We do not take on truly physical forms, but rather what you would see as shadows of ourselves. We are there, but you can see through us._

_I'm beginning to wonder whether it is worth it to make the kind of connections necessary with GFs..._

_Oh my dear hawk, surely you do not mean that._

After a moment of thought, Nida knew he had to agree with that. Even the short time he had been able to connect with Siren had been worthwhile. Her constant presence, whether she was junctioned or resting in the silver charm Veringas had given him, was reassuring, and it was nice to have someone who would not judge him to speak to about the things he was too afraid to speak of. About Elijah, about the Zebalgans, about the dreams that even now wouldn't let him be. 

_If you want, I can try to keep the dreams from you,_ Siren offered, and it was not the first time that she had done so. The first time had been the very first night that Veringas had returned Siren to him. Nida had been woken by the same dream which had horrified him in the infirmary, of kneeling in an ever growing pool of blood, and her voice had gently floated into his mind, soothing like Daphne's was when he was a child. He'd been too unnerved by the voice, too sure that it was something he was only imagining to accept the offer then, but now...

_ No _ , Nida said, almost tempted to shake his head to reinforce the word, but what would it serve to do such a thing?  _ They are too important. If these dreams really can show me the truth of the future, I can't just hide from them, no matter how much I may want to. I need to be able to know if something truly dangerous is coming.  _

_Yet they pain you so greatly..._

True enough, but it wasn't something Nida wanted to fight about right now. Not when there were other people around who were already giving him weird looks. Likely as not he was getting what Selphie called 'that foggy look' on his face that happened when he was deep in conversation with Siren. If he spoke with the GF too long, they might want to know just what it was that Siren was being so vocal about, and Nida wasn't really in the mood to share that. Even now that the others knew of his dreams they hardly felt like something he wanted to share, at least he didn't feel like the recent ones were. There was something pressingly private about them, and even if there hadn't been he would have been afraid that there would be pointless speculation over who the person in his dream was. That was hardly the kind of speculation that he wanted to deal with.

“If you'll all forgive me,” Nida said with a sigh, “I think I could use some lunch. This whole thing is kind of...”

The excuse died on his lips as the demanding shouts of the Garden's alert system came to life, its mechanical siren sliding up and down its scale unrelentingly. Nida cast only the briefest of looks towards the other three with him, catching the combined recognition and concern in their expressions, before throwing himself in a run towards the exit of the training center, clutching his tambo tightly as he did so. There was no time to hesitate, no time to hope that a voice would come on over the PA system to explain what had prompted the alarm. All he could do was search out Squall, and hope that he or one of the other senior SeeDs would know what to do.


	21. Chapter 17

By the time he made the end of the corridor that connected the training center to the rest of the Garden, Nida no longer had to question what was going on. While there had been no announcement on the PA system it was hard to question the situation when the first sight he was granted out of the corridor was a man in the tell-tale red uniform of a Galbadian Elite Soldier. In fact, questions completely evaporated as the soldier in question was raising his gun to point it at Nida. That sight was enough to wash away any lingering rational thought that the alarms hadn't managed to dispel in Nida.

Something must have spooked the soldier. Maybe the idea of an enraged SeeD bearing down on him, maybe the undeniably familiar faces of Selphie and Seifer behind him, or maybe just shock at the idea that there were people still running at him despite the gun in his hands. Whatever it was, the shock was enough to make the soldier's finger to hesitate on the trigger of his gun, it was enough for him to give Nida all the time he needed. One tambo flashed out, knocking the barrel of the gun up and away from any possible targets, and the other smashed full force against the side of the metal half-helmet that the Galbadian soldiers wore. The sound of metal on metal was almost enough to make Nida flinch, and it was more than enough to be heard over the continuing alarm. More important was the fact that the blow had done what it was meant to do, stun the man. The soldier crumpled beneath the blow, and while part of Nida was satisfied to see the dent he had left in the man's helmet, another part of him was sure that the man was only out cold, and a third part—the one dominated by training and fighting instinct—cautioned him that if he could pick the sound out over the alarm, there was a more than fair chance that any other nearby foes would as well.

As much as Nida wanted to continue forward indiscriminately, throwing himself at the invading force, he ducked down, gesturing for the others to do the same. Though low, the railings on either side of the small bridge over the Garden's encircling water fixture would provide some meager amount of cover provided none of the Galbadians came from the direction of the garage and dorms, or had made it up to the higher level which circled the elevator. It was all the cover they could hope for while they figured out what happened next.

Sure enough, Nida heard someone coming up behind him slowly, with the exaggerated care that always seemed to come when someone was crouching and sneaking forward at the same time. The sound was hard to pick up, but with his senses enhanced by Siren and the odd shiver that went up his back—a hard won unconscious reaction of his body to someone coming up behind him quietly—Nida was sure that it was the heavy boots of Seifer, rather than the far softer ones Selphie wore or the canvas shoes that Veringas had chosen for tramping through the Training Grounds.

“I guess this is what you guys must see as deja vu,” Seifer said, his voice in a whisper just low enough for Nida's enhanced senses to pick up.

“Not exactly,” Nida responded, unable to keep his voice from betraying his anger. This was undoubtedly alike in some ways to the battle between the Gardens, but Nida hadn't been involved in that. He'd been occupied at the bridge, focused on ramming into Galbadia Garden, and maybe wishing a little that he could knock Seifer off the thing. All the memories around the thing made him angry, perhaps in part because he'd lost friends like everyone else, but unlike them Nida hadn't been there to try and protect them.

“I was up on the bridge, ramming the Garden down your throat,” he explained, more to explain than outright accuse Seifer, though he knew that the accusation would still be there. “But we had warning then...”

“Well, just so you know, this one isn't my doing,” Seifer whispered back. “I'd like to think I had a bit more of a controlled confrontation.”

Seifer followed the words by tapping Nida on the shoulder, and when Nida turned he could see that Seifer had raised himself just enough to glance over the edge of the barrier that was serving as their cover. What was more, Seifer was pointing at something, and Nida obliged him with a quick popping up of his head to look at what the other man had seen. It was easy enough to pick out what he was talking about, for no sooner had Nida taken a glance than he saw one Galbadian soldier looking around in a sort of shock as the two nearest him turned their guns to point them at a SeeD cadet who was rushing towards them with an oversized chakram.

Quickly Nida reached for the gun that the soldier he had attacked had been holding, only to find Seifer had already picked it up and was pointing it in the direction of the Galbadians. Before Nida could so much as breathe, Seifer had squeezed off a quick shot, and to Nida's surprise, one of the soldiers which had looked ready to shoot the SeeD cadet fell lifelessly to the floor. The second didn't have a chance to show more than the briefest dismay before the girl was upon him, her chakram easily opening his throat and leaving the man to scrabble and try to keep himself from bleeding out. The third soldier, the one who seemed utterly bewildered, took one look at his fallen companions and at the angry, chakram wielding girl and threw his gun down and arms up.

“Something's wrong here,” Nida couldn't help but observe, which earned him a sarcastic chuckle from Seifer.

“You really think so, Nidulus?”

“You ever find the Galbadians you commanded hesitant to attack whatever you pointed them at?”

Seifer's question had been ironic, but Nida's wasn't, and he could see the reluctance in the man's face to admit how right Nida was. Normally soldiers just followed orders, relying on the fact that they would be punished for not doing so to protect them if they were asked about it later. Soldiers, and some mercenaries, could get away with not having to figure out whether their orders were right or not. SeeDs, on the other hand, were expected to question not only the methods, but the morals and ethics of what they did. A SeeD might hesitate about killing—usually after the fact—but a soldier tended to embrace the point-and-shoot interface of their lives from Nida's experience. They only hesitated like this when they really couldn't be sure if their orders were right, or if they weren't sure where the orders came from.

“Best thing we can do now is play on the confusion,” Seifer said after a moment. “Selphie...”

“I'm not staying here,” came Selphie's scathing response, before Seifer even had any chance to say anything to her. “I've lost more friends to Galbadians and _you_ than anyone else here, and I've got rank over the both of you. So don't think you're going to pull some chivalrous bullshit, because we all know it doesn't suit you.”

Nida resisted the momentary urge to chuckle at the expression on Seifer's face. Obviously the blond had yet to be on the receiving end of a deadly serious Selphie, and still likely knew nothing of just how cold and calculating the little lady could be. In fact, few people outside of the inner circle of the high level SeeDs knew that Selphie was one of the three people in charge of tactical design on missions these days, proving herself the equal of Squall and sometimes even Xu's superior. Even Quistis bowed out when Selphie offered herself up during the planning phase of some operation. It had been as shocking a revelation for Nida as learning that Zell was actually a crack shot with pretty much any firearm you placed in his hands.

“What do you think, Selphie?” Nida asked, ignoring Seifer and the growing tension in his own body. He wanted to be out there, fighting, not holding back in thought. Normally he wasn't this eager for a fight, but there was something about what was happening that just tore apart the best of his patience.

“There's no guarantee they haven't come at us from multiple angles, meaning we can't throw ourselves at the front doors with no regard for what is behind us. Seifer, you're the best solo combatant among us, you head back towards the garage and dorms. Gather what people you find and deploy them as you see fit, but focus your attack on clearing out the central hub. We need to secure the elevator so that we've got a withdrawal point, so that will be your central focus. Once that is done, you're to move with whatever people you manage to get under your control to clear out the dormitory area and get what students or cadets that are battle ready together. From there continue around the hub clearing out sections in a clockwise fashion. Nida and I will head for the front. As for you, Doctor, when we move you are to slip around the side of the bridge, duck down into the waterway and hide under the bridge itself. No one will look there until all other areas are cleared out, so you'll be safe from all forces unless all is lost. Now, when I give the signal, move.”

There was a powerful commanding edge in Selphie's voice, one that Nida had seen her use to get men twice her size to snap to attention, and this time he couldn't resist a smirk at the grudging respect plainly written on Seifer's face. Yet that passed as Selphie quickly flashed off a hand-sign that signaled commencement of attack, and instantly Nida was up and advancing quickly and silently towards the entrance with Selphie at his heels. They moved together with all the confidence of two people who had fought and trained together, Nida absolutely trusting her to protect his back, and awed by the fact that even with all the doubt surrounding him, she would trust him with any chance of him using the confusion to 'escape' to the Zebalgans.

As they ran another soldier sprang before Nida, sword in hand, but again Nida found the man before him freezing for one critical second, allowing him to slam one of the heavy metal tambos into the man's arm. Another crack came with the contact of metal to enemy, though this time Nida was certain it was because he had broken the man's arm with the attack. And yet, even as the man stumbled back in shock, dropping his sword to cradle his injured arm, there was no killing intent in the man, at least not any that Nida or Siren could read.

_It's almost as if he were afraid of hurting you, little hawk,_ Siren observed as Nida pivoted on one foot and delivered a sharp kick to the soldier's gut. The soldier doubled over at the blow, going down at last on his knees and then collapsing fully as a sleep spell from Selphie settled over the man.  _What man puts the health of his opponent higher than his own?_

_No one sane_ , Nida responded, moving forward as soon as Selphie's spell took hold, not even acknowledging a SeeD cadet that fell in beside Selphie as they finally came in sight of the directory and the churning mass of Galbadians and SeeDs locked in combat. Quickly Nida's gaze flashed over the group, picking out the worst points of combat, and his eyes lingered for a moment on an area that was free of all but two bodies: Zell and a uniformed woman. It only took another moment for Nida to pick out the clear symbols that marked the woman as a moderately high level General in the Galbadian army. Yet there was something else that made her stand out in Nida's mind, some unreadable warning in the back corner of his mind that sent chills up his back. It could easily have been the fact that the woman was commanding from the center of her troops, or the fact that she wasn't dealing with those who were obviously hesitating against their enemies, but more likely than any of that was the easy way that the woman was handling a fist fight with Garden's best martial artist. 

_She holds Zell off well,_ Siren whispered, and Nida could feel her awareness brush against his own, purposefully drawing his attention to the signs of fatigue already claiming Zell. 

_How does a general have that kind of combat ability in an army that rarely promotes from the enlisted population?_

Then there was no more time to think, because the world around him seemed to slow down as the familiar tingle of magic washed over his skin. Hyne bless Selphie and Haste spells, Nida thought as he lunched himself into the side of the combat, coming up behind a soldier moving so slow that it seemed to Nida that he was moving in the vacuum of space. It took nothing more than slamming both tambo into either side of the man's torso to knock the man out, leaving a cadet facing Nida, obvious relief in her too-wide eyes. Still, Nida didn't pause long enough to take a breath, but let the Haste spell push him forward, dropping his tambo as he moved so he could snatch the perfectly serviceable quarterstaff from the gaping cadet, at the same time pushing the girl behind him as he continued forward, knowing that Selphie would send the obviously in over her head youth off to safety. In the meantime, though, Nida would have a weapon he far preferred to fight with—his training with tambo only meant to help him through situations when his pole arms were broken into pieces and he was left with nothing else to fight with.

The next soldier went down just as quickly, this time only needing his feet swept out from under him and a sharp blow to the head once he hit the ground, freeing up another cadet who had desperately been defending himself with a fluffy, blood-stained towel. Nida almost wanted to pause to yell at this boy for not running, not finding a better weapon, until he recognized the youth as the one who frequently jogged around the Garden this time of day, and what was more, the reason that he hadn't searched for a better weapon. Three children, no one older than nine as likely as not, were huddled behind the bloody cadet, protected by a barrier at their backs and the towel-wielding cadet before them. Before turning away from the small group, Nida cast a quick cure over the group and made sure to memorize the face of the cadet with the towel, intent on having someone recognize him for his bravery.

The whole thing took no more than a half a minute, and yet when Nida turned his attention back towards the better part of the battle, he could see that it had changed massively in his moment of inattention. And the reason was more than clear, as it sent a rallying cheer up from the Garden forces. After all, who wouldn't feel comforted to see Squall suddenly among their ranks, to find a crossbow bolt sprout from their opponent's eye, or to hear the rapid cracks of thunder over the alarm that promised that Irvine had taken up a sniping spot on the second level? Still, even though it was clear the battle was going to go their way, Nida wasn't about to let up now. Every one of the Galbadians taken down by a senior SeeD was one that didn't fall to the cadets, was another life of their own people saved, was another second of bloodshed spared. So Nida threw himself back into the thick of the fight.

Still, Nida couldn't help but notice the hesitation in his enemies the further he found himself carried into the fight. Five more had fallen to him before he had taken so much as a scratch from a Galbadian blade, and while two of those could easily be explained by Nida having come upon them unawares, the other three had seemed reluctant to face him. Attacks that hadn't been held back against those other SeeDs or cadets they found before them always seemed to fall apart when the soldier turned and saw Nida coming at them.

The answer came suddenly, and from an unexpected source. Even as the first Galbadian blade barely scratched across his shoulder, Nida saw another soldier turn to join his companion. Yet the second the new comer saw the blood welling up through the t-shirt Nida was wearing, the moment his gaze likely came to rest on Nida through his helmet, the soldier turned to point his gun at the soldier which had hurt Nida. There was just enough time for Nida to see the word 'heir' on the gun-wielding soldier's lips, and then Nida was moving, hardly believing it himself, to knock the gun's aim towards the ceiling.

In shock the man whose life Nida had just saved stumbled back a step, leaving Nida with enough space to bring the quarterstaff down upon the arms of the man holding the gun. Nida ignored the sickening crack of bones, instead focusing on sucking in as much air as his lungs could hold and reaching out for the second GF that had been given to him through Veringas: Pandemona. With all of the force of the wind GF behind him, Nida roared out something that could change the flow of the battle.

“The Heir has fallen!”

There was a reaction the likes of which Nida doubted even the fog dreams couldn't have predicted. The air was filled with noises that didn't have any place in battle, confused and questioning exclamations from scattered members of the Galbadian force, and equally confused questions hissed out by those members of the Garden force who recognized Nida's voice and didn't quite understand the reason for the shout. Yet more important than that was the almost piteous moans of sorrow that came from other Galbadians, mixed with shouted vows of revenge and unbelievably colorful curses.

Altogether it gave Nida confirmation on the one ultimate truth that he had feared he would find here: at least half of the force they were facing now was comprised of loyal Zebalgan troops. This was no betrayal by an allied force, this was subversion of that force from within. Nida wanted to curse Hyne for the truth of it, but there was no time. It would take only a moment for one of the Zebalgan higher-ups to realize that not only was Nida still standing, but that their own men had given them away. All Nida could hope to do was take advantage of the short confusion, to direct all of his attention on those Galbadians nearest him who seemed driven to grief or rage by his proclamation, and pray that the other senior SeeDs would understand the importance of what had just happened.

He didn't have to wait long for a sign that he'd been understood by his allies, for no sooner had the protests of the Zebalgans cleared the air than Nida heard a familiar voice behind him cry out in anguish.

“Hyne, no! Stay with me Nida! I need an elixir over here!” Selphie shouted from somewhere beyond the edge of the fight, the anguish in her voice almost enough to convince Nida that he was in fact hurt. It was a nice touch, really, and enough to let him know that she, at least, has understood the meaning of his shout and the response of the Galbadians.

“For Nida!” Seifer's voice shouted from somewhere on the other side of the fight, giving away his own acknowledgment of Nida's message, and betraying the fact that he hadn't been able to obey Selphie's orders, something he'd have to answer for later.

Confusion was still spreading through the enemy ranks, and Nida couldn't help the sigh of relief that came to him as he heard the third call, the only one that mattered.

“We won't fall to Zebalgans! For Garden!”

Squall's shout was met with a roar of agreement from the Garden forces, and a surge of energy from those who were obviously already getting tired from the fight. And, more importantly, it was met with all the confirmation that any Garden fighter, or loyal Galbadian soldier needed to understand that they had a single enemy which wasn't each other.

“For the people! For the Boyce! For the Heir!”

 

* * * * * *

 

“Don't worry, Doctor Kadowaki will get you fixed up faster than you would believe,” Nida reassured the young Galbadian soldier as two relatively uninjured SeeD cadets lifted the stretcher they were using to carry him to the infirmary. This was one of the few who hadn't been carried off as soon as the battle had finished—neither dead nor mortally wounded—and he'd been left in Nida's care until Kadowaki and the casters she had commandeered had enough people back on their feet so that she could spare a bed for him. After all, a broken leg wasn't as bad as an arterial bleed, and Nida knew enough of field medicine to start dealing with the limb. It was only fitting as well, for Nida had been the one to break the boy's leg when he'd been too foolish to realize that it had been the soldier next to him with a gun that had been the real threat, not Nida. Breaking the leg and forcing the young soldier to fall had been the only way for Nida to keep the kid from getting shot by the person he thought was his friend and ally.

“Thanks,” the young soldier gasped out, a grimace of pain on his face as the cadets carrying the stretcher accidentally shook him and thus his injured leg. “I can't believe someone as nice as you is supposed to be some kind of weapon.”

Nida didn't bother to correct the boy, what use was it for him to know that the Zebalgans didn't see him as a weapon, but as a means to gain a weapon. There were other things he had to get to doing, things he had put off claiming he needed to look after the soldier, that could be delayed no more. So, with a sigh, Nida turned and headed towards the entrance, and the place where the other senior SeeDs had assembled, blocking their juniors and the survivors of the fight from the one kill that had won them the battle.

When Nida limped up, Selphie and Seifer unconsciously moved apart to give him a place to stand, which made him smile a little to himself. Better to be between these two, who he was sure now would protect him from the wrath of any of the others if they chose to blame this all on Nida, than near someone who might be less understanding. Yet the smile was instantly wiped away as he was presented with the sight of the woman he had seen fighting Zell crumpled up on the floor. Looking at her now, she didn't seem to be quite worthy of the chill she had given Nida when he had first seen her. The woman was small, maybe Selphie's height, though it was clear even without removing her uniform that she likely had all the muscular build that Zell maintained for fighting. Her hair, brown and dusted with silver hairs, had been pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck, but now stray hairs framed her face. They almost softened the sharp angles of her face, the square jaw, the overly pronounced cheekbones, but it did nothing to distract from the odd bulge at the back of her head, or hide the fact that her neck seemed to be at an inexplicably odd angle.

“Clean kill,” Squall pronounced from his place squatting at the side of the dead woman.

“Yeah,” Zell agreed, sounding unbelievably tired, and perhaps a little regretful for the likely painless death that breaking the woman's neck had granted. “She nearly won. Had me in a headlock. I guess she expected me to go quietly...”

“You never were the type,” Seifer said with a sigh, taking a step forward to crouch by the body. Thankfully the place the large blond chose was enough to block Nida's sight of the broken neck that had held his gaze since he had noticed it. “Let me guess, you figured it was easier to try to get her to let you go of her own accord rather than use force to get free.”

Nida could see Zell nodding out of the corner of his eyes. “Could have gotten free with time, I've got the strength junctions to do it, but there wasn't time. I just reached up and...”

Zell trailed off, not wanting to explain though Nida at least was able to supply the rest. It didn't take much to guess that Zell had simply braced himself, gripped his attacker at the base of the chain and the back of the head, and twist. For most people it wouldn't have done much, but with the strength of Brothers behind him, it wasn't really a shock that Zell had managed to break the woman's neck even from such an unlikely angle.

“I'm glad you're okay,” Selphie said, placing a comforting hand on Zell's shoulder. “I saw her fighting, she was good.”

“She got sloppy when she heard Nida's shout,” Zell admitted, though there was a reluctance to it that made Nida wonder whether the woman had gone into an unthinking rage at the shout, and thus made it possible for Zell to win. “It was a good plan.”

“And got the information we needed out,” Irvine agreed. “Thanks.”

It was more than he really expected from anyone other than Selphie or Seifer, so Nida just nodded in acknowledgment and returned his attention to the body that Seifer was obscuring.

“Lieutenant General Macken,” Seifer said, and there was a barely suppressed rage at the name.

“Three star General in the Galbadian Army,” Quistis supplied, slipping easily into what Nida thought of as her information retrieval mode. “Graduated top of her class at the military academy, and was one of the people instrumental in starting the policy of hiring Garden graduates into the military. After the policy started...”

“Enrollment nearly tripled,” Irvine supplied, shaking his head. “Probably mostly Zebalgans. Shit.”

“I knew her.”

That returned everyone's attention to Seifer quickly enough, including Nida's.

“Ruth Macken was one of the few Generals that was willing to refuse my orders when I was the Sorceress Knight,” Seifer continued, as if knowing he was going to get questioned at some point. “Was the head of SpecOp for the army. Special operations, for those of you not in the know. Most of her units are elite level fighters, the kinds that even SeeD would have trouble facing a company of without at least a platoon of their own. Let's consider ourselves lucky that she didn't even bring a full battalion with her, much less the whole corps that she's responsible for.

“I guess this explains why she was such a popular officer with her men, though. They were doubly loyal to her. I didn't even risk replacing her back when I was in command, for fear of mutiny. She supposedly had the ears of several of the top brass as well... Hyne, I'm starting to think that Ultimecia and Edea's paranoia over the Zebalgans might not have been misplaced, even if we missed a threat of the size we did...”

“I don't understand,” Selphie finally said, causing Seifer to stop spilling every bit of information he could think of about the fallen general. “What was she even doing here?”

It was Squall who answered, a dark look on his face as he slowly got to his feet. “Xu received a message this morning from President Caraway that he had deployed a portion of the army to Balamb, to serve as backup for any actions SeeD might take against the Zebalgans. They were supposed to help us deal with what we discovered on Centra.”

“And that was?” Zell prompted, proving to Nida that he was far from the only one not informed of this development.

“The Esthari air force thinks they found the main base of the Zebalgans,” Xu offered, winning the first silence that lasted more than a pair of heartbeats from the group.

“So we're moving on them?” Irvine asked, his voice so monotone that Nida didn't even know what to make of the gunner's response to the news.

“We don't have the men,” Squall admitted, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “This whole situation proves we can't trust the men other countries might offer us, and a good deal of our own fighting force is now injured. And we don't even know who gave this general her orders to attack, because I doubt it was Caraway. He was as furious as the rest of us when the Zebalgans tried to attack the Sorceresses.”

“Who could blame him?” Seifer asked, standing as well. “Even if him and Rinoa have never had a good relationship, he's still her father. I'd put even money on Macken not having acted on his authority, possibly even on his communication to us being faked.”

“Then who sent them?” Xu asked, frowning.

“Megill, who else?” Nida said, an odd chill running down his back once more. “And something tells me that she wasn't just some pawn of his. I wouldn't be surprised if this Macken was a member of their council.”

“A dream?” Quistis asked, but all Nida could do was shake his head.

“Just a hunch, and a chill whenever I look at her.”

“I think I have to agree,” Squall admitted, though he obviously didn't like the idea. “We'll have Kadowaki look her over, and see if we can't get Caraway to send someone we can trust to search her residence in Galbadia. In the meantime, though, we need to...”

“Check her for a GF,” Zell cut in. “She was stronger and faster than any reasonable amount of training could have caused.”

“And see to your wound,” Quistis added, turning her full attention onto Squall, clearly concerned.

Nida, and a few others he was sure, gaped in surprise at Quistis's words. It was only now that Nida could pick up on the little signs that proved her words to be true. Squall's posture, for instance, was a little more slumped than it should have been, and his face looked a bit pale now that Nida was looking. But what really gave it away was the fact that Nida could now tell that Squall hadn't really crossed his arms as Nida had first assumed—Squall was prone to crossing his arms over his chest when he was in thought, so Nida hadn't thought anything of the gesture until now—but rather had folded them across his chest, with his right arm clearly helping to hold up the weight of the left.

“What happened?” Selphie, Seifer and Nida all demanded as one, earning a faint smirk from the normally stoic gunblader.

“Stray crossbow bolt,” Squall offered, turning just enough that Nida could see the bolt that was still sticking out of Squall's back.

“Again, I'm sorry,” Xu quickly said, her voice filled with regret. “I wasn't expecting you to plow through them both so fast. I thought I was helping when I fired at the one...”

Squall held up his right hand to silence Xu, saying nothing but with a kind of silence that seemed to carry a weight of understanding.

“Let's get him to Kadowaki before she has all our heads for leaving him like this,” Seifer said, crossing behind his rival and offering him a shoulder to lean on. Squall stood there for a moment, utterly quiet and devoid of expression save for a single raised eyebrow—this silence filled with a questioning amusement—before taking Seifer up on his silent offer.

Nida and a few others moved aside as the pair slowly advanced, Squall trusting Seifer to carry part of his weight without being to annoying, and when they were fully past Nida, all he could do was stare at the wound.

If the bolt had gone in any deeper, it would have pierced a lung. If it had gone any further right, it could have damaged his spine and paralyzed Squall. And had Squall been standing at any real angle to the shot other than straight on, the bolt would have found his heart. It was hard to think they had been that close to losing person who was holding Garden together in the face of all of this, and the only thing that has likely saved Squall's life was pure and simple luck.

Another chill went down Nida's back, and this time he didn't know quite what to make of it.


	22. Chapter 18

“There. It's not much, and I will expect you to check in later but it will hold you together for now. Provided, that is, you don't strain your arm. And if you were as wise as you're often credited as being, you won't tear open the wound and drag me back here when I have other patients sorely in need of my attention,” Kadowaki said as she gathered up the medical kit she had brought with her to Squall's quarters. “You are to either have someone change the bandage in six hours, or come to me to do it. Other than that, Squall, I would very much recommend that you become better at dodging crossbow bolts. If you had been any less lucky with where you were hit...”

Kadowaki trailed off, more than willing to let the few assembled supply their own theories as to what would have happened if Squall really hadn't had luck on his side this time. It was clear enough to Nida from the looks on Seifer and Squall's faces that they had already leapt to all the worst case scenarios, probably even a few that neither Nida or Kadowaki had come up with on their own. Chances were that Kadowaki had read the same thing in the silence of the gunbladers, and just sighed as she stood. This too Nida could understand: the doctor had far more important things to worry about than a young SeeD who should have been able to look after himself. Not, of course, that she even held out the most ridiculous dreams that the youths she was charged with caring for would ever manage to avoid injury, but in the last hour she'd acquired nearly forty new patients to tend to, and she was intent on returning to them whether they were Garden students or Galbadians still reeling from the shock of what had come to pass.

“Well, I would normally prescribe sleep as well, but I somehow doubt that you would listen now, as you never have before. So I suppose this is the best I can do... Seifer, you are to make sure that the Commander gets no less than five hours of sleep tonight.”

“Whatever,” Squall mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. It wasn't the best move, as even as he did so, Nida could see the grimace of pain flash across Squall's face.

“I give you my word,” Seifer said, half chuckling at the look on Squall's face. “In fact, it will be my pleasure to make sure of it.”

“I'm sure you will. Just don't be too rough with him,” Kadowaki said with another sigh. Finally she just shook her head and left without another word, leaving the trio of SeeDs in silence until the door of Squall's quarters slid shut with a quiet hiss.

At last, though, Seifer broke the silence by driving his fist into the nearest wall, causing Nida to jump and leaving a rather impressive depression in the drywall. It wasn't quite as bad as the damage as Zell would have caused, but it was enough to earn Seifer a rather dirty look from Squall.

“Good thing Kadowaki brought us here,” Nida mused, “otherwise you'd have hell to pay for damaging one of her walls.”

“He'll be paying for the repairs out of his first pay,” Squall pointed out, pushing himself off of the bed. “In the mean time, get me a shirt.”

It was clearly a command directed at Seifer, so Nida quickly moved so that he wasn't leaning against Squall's dresser. Seifer took a moment to roll his eyes and throw Squall a mocking salute before moving to pull open a few drawers until he was at last presented with the sight of a collection of plain white shirts. Soon enough Seifer had thrown one right at Squall's head, only to have that minor protest easily countered by Squall catching it as if it had been expected—and maybe it had. In a matter of moments Squall had managed to carefully pull the shirt on over his bandaged torso, though he chose to forgo the stretching that would have been required to get either his uniform or leather coat on as well.

“I don't like this,” Seifer growled, slamming the dresser drawer closed as he turned fully to look at Squall.

“Whether you approve of my taste in clothing or not is hardly my concern,” Squall countered.

“That isn't what I meant, and you know it,” Seifer snapped, turning to lean against the dresser as Nida had been only minutes before.

“Lieutenant General Macken,” Squall said, shaking his head. Yet it wasn't in denial, that much was obvious to Nida. No, the gesture struck him as more of Squall admitting that he didn't quite know what to think of what had happened. “Nida, how...?”

“Other than the odd behavior within the Galbadian troops themselves?” Nida asked, though it was a rather rhetorical question, and he knew Squall would have noticed that too and yet had not made the connection Nida had.

“One of the younger Galbadians managed to cut the back of my hand. Nothing major, hardly even enough to impair fighting. His partner, though, grew furious with him, and raised his gun not at me, but at the other soldier. He muttered something I couldn't hear, but I could read it on his lips...”

“Heir,” Seifer supplied, disgust plain in his voice, as if the very taste of the word made him want to spit, in hopes that he could rid himself of it.

“At that point I deflected the shot aimed for the first soldier, and, well, you heard what I shouted.”

Squall nodded in agreement, “It was effective.”

“I couldn't be sure that all of those on our side would understand, but I figured that it might get a reaction from the Zebalgans in the group, and that the senior members of SeeD would make the connection between the contradiction of my voice declaring my own death or injury in such a manner.”

“I wasn't positive until Selphie's shout,” Squall admitted, frowning to himself. “She's too calm on the battlefield to act in such a way.”

“Really? I'd think that with the pair of lungs she's got on her, you'd use her as a glorified herald in battle or something,” Seifer said.

Squall just ignored the comment, still frowning though Nida was sure that it was because Squall was thinking. He wasn't the only one either, not with all there was to leave someone questioning. There were plenty to ask: who was the spy in Garden; could they trust Caraway; what was the next move for the the Zebalgans; for Garden; and why in the world had Squall, upon being told he'd be tended to in his own room by Kadowaki, had sent the others away. A few, like Quistis and Selphie, had been sent to deal with clean up and contacting Caraway, but the others Squall had merely dismissed by ordering Seifer and Nida to come with him to his rooms. Which left Nida wondering what was coming next.

“She has been used that way before,” Nida pointed out, taking up the conversation he had almost abandoned in his train of thought. “During the SeeD examination.”

“Yeah, sent her on as a messenger girl,” Seifer agreed, shaking his head. “Too much energy on that girl.”

“Probably part of the reason she was sent after your exam group. You were the furthest away, and that before you went running off.”

Seifer had no response to that, something which honestly mystified Nida. He'd expected some scathing remark, or at least some self-satisfied comment about how he'd at least been willing to act. Silence wasn't Seifer's thing after all, so for Nida to be met with it, well, it was about as comforting as Squall giving a speech.

“So what do we do now, Commander?” Seifer asked instead, returning his attention to Squall. “Can't leave this unanswered. This is the third time they've put innocents in the line of fire.”

There was no doubt that Squall agreed, not with the way he was nodding.

“I don't think they see it that way,” Nida said, and almost instantly he regretted it. The looks that he got from Squall and Seifer—confusion and incredulity—were nearly enough to make Nida think twice about his words. Yet he had to press on, it was more than clear that these two couldn't quite understand. Just like Quistis, they had spent the better part of their lives in Garden, they had little memory outside of it.

“Edea and Rinoa represent the core of what they hate and they fear, and Ellone is as unknown to them as she is to us. Winhill is full of people who not only don't believe, but they willingly put their fate into the hands of the Garden barbarians, people who harbor Sorceresses and their Knights. And Garden... I don't think they see any of the people here as innocent, not quite. Joshua and Elijah both grew up in Gardens, they might understand that not all the children here are warriors, that we don't force this onto them if they can't handle it. The others... who knows.”

Seifer looked about to protest, but he was silenced by a small gesture from Squall.

“That doesn't chance what they've done,” Squall said, “or what they intend to do. Who is to say they won't be willing to do the same to Timber, or Dollet, or any other group of people they don't like? If Megill is willing, able to send a branch of the Galbadian military at us, then who is to say he won't send it for people who can't fight back?”

“Then what do you propose?”

“We strike back.”

 

* * * * * *

 

“You're going to get us all attacked by these psychotic fools!” Duke Freizan of Dollet bellowed, slamming his fists upon his desk to emphasize the protest. “Dollet can no more protect itself now than it could when Galbadia last invaded us, so how are we to protect ourselves from their army when you run off on your fools errand!?”

“What happened here was not an act of the Galbadian military, of that I can assure you,” President Caraway countered, his voice utterly level and calm for all the accusations that Freizan had been flinging at Galbadia for the last several minutes. Nida had to give Caraway credit for the sheer composure he was maintaining, all things considered.

With a sigh Nida leaned back in his chair, making sure that he didn't openly acknowledge the fact that every time he so much as breathed he was given suspicious looks. The only relief he had was that none of those looks came from within the conference room anymore. Something had changed since Winhill, since the attack on Garden, leaving Nida without enemies among the senior SeeDs. Nor had the assembled trio of women who had been brought to Balamb Garden by the White SeeDs seemed to hold the attack upon them against Nida. Granted Rinoa's entire attention upon her arrival had been on trying to win Squall's affection (much to his annoyance and Seifer's amusement), but Edea had embraced him with as much fondness as she had given any of her 'children,' and Ellone had placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder and assured him that everything would be alright.

No, all the hesitation came from those men and women who had been brought into the discussion by video conferencing, their faces all prominently displayed on the second of two the two large screens that had been installed in the conference room. In this case it was the screen at the foot of the long table, not only because it was the one set up for video conferencing, but because its placement meant that someone looking through the window of the conference room door wouldn't be able to see what was going on. The downside was that Squall had insisted that Nida and Seifer take up the places to his immediate left, putting Nida that much closer to the center of attention and making it impossible for him to try to hide his presence from those foreign powers that were part of this discussion. Already Freizan and the Headmaster of Trabia Garden had expressed concern at Nida's involvement in the conversation. Not even Squall's word had seemed to suffice for them, resulting in Laguna and Edea speaking on Nida's behalf, and even Caraway had spoken. It had been his words, though, which had carried the most weight. Who, after all, was going to speak up against a man who might share information with the enemy when it had already been proven that one of the most powerful militaries in the world could hardly assure anyone of absolute secrecy?

And so Nida sat still, trying not to show how bored he was with all of the posturing of the political and military leaders in on the conference. Seifer was getting away with it, in part because who was really willing to draw the attention of such an infamous man, and in part because Seifer was obviously the sort of man who wouldn't care what was said of or to him. Everyone else—save Rinoa—had their attention riveted on the screen, on the conversation taking place, leaving Nida to feign attentiveness as everyone pointed fingers at everyone else. Well, not quite everyone else. Mostly people blamed the subordinates of the other leaders, fearing that one of them was less trustworthy than had been assumed. No one seemed to think that the problems could be with their own men.

“Our investigation into the matter tells us that President Caraway is correct,” Squall said, his voice utterly level and business-like. “The message that was sent to Garden was, upon closer inspection, revealed to have been faked. Xu, please explain.”

At Squall's words, Xu quickly turned her attention to the stack of papers before her, one which Nida was sure she had long since memorized all the details of. Xu wasn't the sort of person, after all, to run the risk of not knowing some obscure detail that may be needed at a moment's notice. Still, she looked through the papers as if she needed to refresh herself on some detail before looking up at the faces looking out at her from the screen.

“I analyzed the video call we apparently received from President Deling. Superficially it appeared to be everything that we first believed, a message from Caraway covering his deployment of a portion of the military, at his command, to help Garden in its attempts to defend people against the growing Zebalgan threat. Closer analysis of the transmission reveled that it was not, in fact, composed of a single message. Rather it was created from pieces of other transmissions, not only to Garden, but to other nations, and people within his own country. The videos were skillfully cut together, making it hard to notice the flaws and evidence of this even when slowed down and analyzed by our best technology. Whoever did this work... they were more than just skillful. Their skill was far better than I have ever encountered.”

“Just because...” Freizan started to speak, only to be cut off by a throat being cleared. That might not have even stopped him, had it not been for just who it was that had made the noise.

“I don't mean to interrupt,” Laguna said, earning a barely suppressed snicker from Seifer, and an eye-roll from Squall, but if Xu says that she has not encountered someone with that kind of skill, I believe her. I would request, though, that the video transmission be shared with our top computer specialists...”

“And who is to say that yours are even trustworthy?” Caraway asked, unable to resist the inherent distrust the Galbadians seemed to hold even now for Esthari. “There is no way to be sure that your people are not either Zebalgan, or under their command.”

“Let us not forget that Garden received that transmission from your country,” Xu said, flipping through her pages once more. “That we were able to confirm. Which means that there is someone within your own nation who is under the Zebalgan command.”

Squall nodded in agreement, raising a hand to silence the protests that met Xu's words. “Chances are that all of us, at one time or another, have had a member of the Zebalgans among our number. Balamb Garden had Zale, Galbadia this Joshua, and Trabia Megill himself. We even found evidence of their number in Winhill and among the White SeeD. If I were in their position, I would do the same. The best way to gather information about the enemy is among them.”

Some of the people were looking at Squall in shock, their mouths gaping open at Squall's words. But others, like Caraway and Kiros—who was standing behind Laguna with his face just barely visible on the screen—were nodding in agreement. Nida was unsurprised by that, just as the others at the Garden's conference table—save Rinoa who was staring at Squall and clearly not paying much attention—seemed unshocked by Squall's words. In fact, it was only those leaders who had no military background that seemed to be dazed by Squall's words.

“The truth of the matter is, that these people have us on the ropes,” Seifer cut in, finally sitting forward in his chair and turning his attention towards the screen. “They're good enough to install sleeper agents in not one, but four different military and para-military groups, agents obedient enough to, after developing live and relationships with people around them, sometimes people they have known since their childhood, still get up and walk away without looking back. Chances are that the ones that were given those positions were by far the best of their people, and that not all of them can pull off that kind of devotion. The problem is that those ones are the ones we have to watch out for, the ones we have to deal with.”

“And so you would suggest we attack these people? If they are as strong as you say they are, won't this make things worse?” a new voice added itself to the conversation, that of the woman who was head of the small council which had taken over the governing of Timber at Caraway's behest. “You ask us to leave our people undefended, to attack an enemy whose retaliation will undoubtedly be swift and more damaging to us than to them? And you ask us to do it when we still have no idea where these people have gone to?”

“That is not completely true,” Edea said, drawing attention to herself. Until now many of the people on the screen had seemed to pointedly be ignoring Edea. It was as understandable as people watching Nida suspiciously, for many of them—their people really—had been harmed by the woman that Edea Kramer _had_ been. She, unlike Nida, was taking it all with a quiet grace. Then again, she had been living with the knowledge of who and what she was for years, whereas Nida had only become a 'threat' to the world in the last few weeks. There was years of experience, of practice, behind the way she sat there, seeming both apart from the whole situation, and yet utterly attentive. 

“Do you have any ideas, Edea?” Laguna prompted, seeming to understand that the way she had trailed off had been meant to draw interest and attention.

“There are a few signs which I believe point to where they might base themselves,” she said, bowing her head slightly to acknowledge Laguna. “I would draw your attention to the attack upon Sorceress Rinoa and myself, not to mention Ellone. When we were attacked, it was a surprise in part due to the fact that the attack did not come from the sea. Some of you might know that one of the best approaches to the Orphanage are sea based. The area by the lighthouse is predominately cliffs, and the Orphanage itself is built on the cliffs, but we have beach access. I could hold the path to the beach myself, but it would tire me quickly. A handful of White SeeD might hold it indefinitely. Yet the weak point for us is the front of the Orphanage. We face expansive beaches on either side of the peninsula, with only a minor change in elevation on the road up to the building. We could be overwhelmed from that direction and distracted to the point where we would not think to protect ourselves from the rear. That being said, we can see when there are boats in the area. And I can tell you that the Zebalgans did not use boats to reach our shores, or to attack our flank.”

This information seemed to be considered for a moment, various people either scowling as they tried to figure out the importance, or nodding in agreement with Edea's words. At last, though, Kiros spoke up, more than willing to explain things for the less militarily minded.

“This means the Zebalgans had to use an overland route to attack you. They either have a base or a staging ground in Centra.”

Quistis nodded in agreement, cleared her throat. “We recently acquired some information from Dr. Munroe, a professor of the University of Deling City, and an expert upon ancient Zebalgan culture. He shared some research with us, by himself and others in his focus, that suggests that Centra would be the center of Zebalgan activity. Apparently the Centran Empire we all learn about in school, which split to create the Dollet Empire, and the Esthari nation, was in fact an empire controlled and peopled by the Zebalgan people. A third group remained upon the continent after the sundering, maintaining their culture and in an attempt to reclaim their old power, uncovered the Crystal Pillar and caused the Lunar Cry of 80 years ago.”

Again there were protests, both loud and restrained, upon all save the SeeDs at the table, who had already learned all of this in a previous briefing. No, again there was someone that seemed to have expected this news. Well, no, not quite expected, just not surprised. Laguna was frowning to himself, almost looking as if he was seriously considering something. With a crook of his finger, Kiros bent down to listen to some whispered words, then nodded and strode off screen.

“I can't quite be sure,” Laguna said, cutting into the mumbling, “but I think there might be something useful about that in the library here at the Presidential Residence.”

“Palace,” Squall mumbled under his breath, so quietly that Nida could barely hear it. No one who had spent time around the SeeD Commander had any doubt that he considered his father more a king than a president.

“I seem to remember a few books on the land where the Esthari people came from, and why they broke away from their people, and another more recent one on the people of the Centran continent before the Lunar Cry. We might be able to find something in them that will be useful.”

“So we're to poke around randomly in a vast, deserted land, and hope that we manage to find a vast army of people who want to conquer us, and all the while we pray to Hyne that they don't know we're coming?” Duke Freizan asked.

“In a way,” Caraway said even as Laguna offered, “Yes.”

“No,” Squall countered, shaking his head. “I have been working with the Headmasters of the three Gardens since I learned about what Quistis said. We quietly arranged for surveillance of the continent, and have cut down the number of possible locations where any force could be hiding. We would ask for Esthar's help in further searching. Our fly-overs cannot do much with the canyon lands.”

“And other places,” Xu added. When Nida glanced at her he could see her frowning slightly. “From what I understand the canyons there are washes, which means that any real rain completely flood them. I don't think that these people would use those places to hide themselves.”

Something in Nida wanted to protest, but he couldn't quite explain why. There were no dreams, no true knowledge of the Centran continent to base such a protest on, only a gut feeling that said that it was the best place to look. Whether that feeling came from some unexplored or unknown that came to the heir, or just his growing unease around Xu, he couldn't know. Yet there was something in him that cried out at the idea of the canyons. Something in him made him think of high, cool walls of red stone, offering protection from both the elements and prying eyes.

“And what do we do when you find them?” Caraway asked, bringing silence once more to the assembled people. “Already Balamb Garden has suggested an all out attack, but may I point out to you that a good deal of the people missing according to our records are young, old, infirm, or other non-combatants. There is just as much chance that you will find a mass of relative innocents, and attack them without provocation. At that point are we any better than they are?”

Silence, and this time a more lasting one. It was a question that no one knew how to answer from the looks on their faces, and even Nida couldn't think of a response. In fact, the only thing that came to mind were the memories of that late night, his hand gripped tightly in Elijah's. The weakness, the terror, the disbelief on the faces of SeeD and cadet alike as Elijah's Rupio cut them down. They had been defenseless, more or less, with no weapons at hand. Many of them had been young enough to have been spared the horrors of the recent war, had never faced any true risk to their lives. Innocent in every meaningful way, and cut down by a single man with bloody purpose. Would they be the same thing if unleashed upon the Zebalgans? Could they ever be sure that they were facing trained fighters and not normal men with no greater motivation than protecting their families? Yes, the Zebalgans had struck at them first, but could they justify what Squall was asking? How many lives would be lost? How many saved?

“We negotiate,” Squall said at last, his words shocking Nida—and from the sudden movement around him, many others—from their respective reveres. “Send in someone who can act as our voice, to try and make peace with them.”

“Do you really think that's possible?” Seifer asked after another moment of silence, putting out the question that no one else was willing to voice.

“No,” Squall admitted. “I don't. But there is a chance we can learn what forces, if any, are at the location we find and we would have a chance to learn something about our enemies and the council that leads them. But whoever is sent in is at risk. The Zebalgans might know the person is coming, might kill them to keep them from letting any information out...”

“It's a worthwhile risk, though,” Caraway said, though he didn't even try to conceal the distaste in his voice. “One life for thousands...”

“An exchange we can't refuse,” Laguna agreed.

“We have to try,” the head of the Timber Council grudgingly agreed.

“But can we trust someone for this?” Duke Freizan asked.

“It would have to be a SeeD,” Caraway said, and he sounded quite bitter to have to acknowledge that. “Galbadia doesn't have the kind of training needed for one of our operatives to survive in such a situation, much less one qualified to negotiate as well.”

“Nor does Esthar,” Laguna admitted.

“And while I cannot be sure that I speak for the others, I know that save for the people that the Garden supply us with, Trabia has no one who could do this,” the old mayor of Trabia said, and his words were followed by quick agreement from the leaders of Timber and Dollet.

“It can't be Zell,” Xu quickly offered. “I doubt they'll look kindly on someone who killed one of their own with his bear hands.”

Quistis nodded in agreement before adding her own opinion, “We can't send Xu either. She's the only one even remotely capable of dealing with finding the source of the Zebalgan transmissions, and make sure we don't fall for that last trick again.”

“Can't send cowboy either,” Seifer observed. “He can't handle himself without that gun of his.”

Nida could see that Irvine was about to protest that when Squall raised his hands to silence the chatter. “Nor can we send Selphie because we need her tactical skill, Quistis because her style isn't suited to multiple combatants, and the list could continue. The problem is that the person I would trust most to get out in a fight would be Seifer...”

That got a few roars of anger—and a smirk from Seifer—which Squall cut off with a gesture. “But the Zebalgans have already demanded his head. They won't deal with him, and I won't waste a resource. He'd also be a poor negotiator.”

The last comment wiped the smirk off of Seifer's face, leaving him scowling.

“We only have one option...” Squall said after a moment, and he wasn't given a chance to finish.

“Absolutely not!” Laguna snapped, slamming his fist on his desk and making the image of him on the screen shake. “We can't risk...”

“I agree,” Caraway put in, cutting off the obvious fatherly rant that Laguna was clearly about to launch into. “If this comes to war, the SeeD need a strong, experienced commander. No offense meant to your people, but none of them have the leadership experience that you do, Leonhart.”

“If the Lion of Balamb were to fall...” Duke Freizan mumbled, just barely audible behind the other protests.

“You can't do that Squall!” Rinoa cried, and immediately she seemed to burst into tears. “I won't let you...”

Edea placed a hand on Rinoa's shoulder, as if to silence her, but it did nothing to stop the tears of the younger sorceress.

“I have to agree,” Edea said after a moment. “Beyond just the reasons offered by the others, there is the concern about Rinoa. A sorceress needs to have their knight to act as their anchor. If you were to fail, the despair could... Well, it is a risk we must not entertain.”

The protests continued, flying thick and fast, stumbling over each other until Nida could barely keep up with them. All the while Squall sat by, impassive, his mind already made up. Yet, the longer Nida listened, the more he looked at Squall, the more it seemed that his vision filled with fog and smoke. As he watched Squall seemed to grow weak before him, gasping for air, and pressing his hand against his side. Blood stained the hand, his shirt, seemed to be everywhere and spreading with each passing moment.

Then the smoke and fog obscured him, completely hiding Squall from his sight, and leaving Nida alone and staring at his own hands. Hands covered in blood. Hands suddenly full as they clutched a body to his chest. An ache in his chest, tears burning in his eyes, pain screaming in his shoulder. The pool of blood spreading, leaving a deep darkness that even the fog could not hide, even as it hid the face of the person he held.

“No,” Nida whispered to himself. This wasn't the time to have fallen asleep, to get caught up in visions of what might be. “No,” he repeated, this time the words not coming because he wanted them to, but because they had to when he looked down at the person in his arms. Over and over he chanted the word, refusing the sight, refusing the vision, refusing the choice it seemed to offer him.

“No!” he said again, with force this time. Sure enough it seemed to awaken him, or at least dispel whatever had passed over him. The smoke and fog was gone, leaving him seated at the table with all eyes turned towards him in shock. Apparently this time the word had been heard by others.

“Nida...” Edea said, reaching across the table for his hand, but he quickly pulled his hand out of her reach.

“No,” he repeated, this meeting Squall's eyes as he spoke. “They're right. You can't go. You're too valuable, too important. And if you go, you won't make it back.”

Even as Nida spoke he knew what he said was true, or at least true enough for the purpose of this meeting. What else could the brief glimpses of fog-dreams have meant? Let Squall go and something terrible would happen, something that would find Nida looking on with Squall at the edge of death. Refuse and submit to the nightmare that had plagued him in the week since Joshua's death.

“You won't,” Nida repeated, refusing to back down from the challenge in Squall's silence, in his gray-blue eyes. “You're a Sorceress Knight. You're a leader of one of the major military forces in this world, the son of another. Your death would destroy hope, destroy our chances to survive. It would be better to send Seifer than you.”

“Thanks,” Seifer said, sounding less than flattered by Nida's words.

“Then who?” Squall asked, but Nida could read the expression there for once, as plain as if it were Selphie he was staring at. Squall already knew the answer Nida would give, was expecting it, and even though he didn't like the idea, Nida knew that Squall would agree.

“Me.”

The protests were even louder now, and the arguments were no doubt less pleasant. None of them would suggest that Nida was important to save as much as they would say he was something that could not be delivered into the hands of their enemies. Some would no doubt say he wasn't trustworthy, that he would betray them, that he would deliver the power of Hyne into Megill's hands. What they said, though, Nida didn't know. His eyes still held Squall's, refusing to back down from the denial there.

“No,” Squall said, quietly. Chances were that no one but Nida heard him over the debate going on.

“It has to be me,” Nida said, not bothering to pitch his voice low. He knew as he spoke he would draw the attention of others, would silence everything around them eventually. They would hear him out, even if they didn't want to, and they would have no choice but to agree. “They'll know someone is coming, will be able to kill whoever we choose before anything can be done. Except for me. They need me, and they need me alive.”

“That's the problem,” Seifer said, jumping into the conversation. “We can't give you to them, especially when some of them clearly want to kill you.”

Nida thought back to Joshua, but he shook his head. “No. If I'm in their midst, they won't let me come to harm. Sure, some might want me dead, but from what Joshua and Elijah said, that's a small group.”

“Small and outspoken is bad,” Quistis offered. “They might be willing to risk anything to kill you.”

“And the others will risk anything to protect me,” Nida countered. “They won't just let me live, they'll bring me to Megill or whoever else is in charge. We need to get to a leader to negotiate.”

“But they won't let you out,” said Xu, frowning. “You're too value to them to let you go.”

“Selphie, Zell and Quistis can all tell you that getting out isn't as much of a problem as the negotiating. It was my specialization before flying. Getting in and getting out. I'm also good enough at combat to handle myself.”

“I don't...” someone started to say, Nida wasn't sure who , but Squall shook his head and there was silence.

“I don't think you should do this,” Squall said at last.

“We don't have a choice,” Nida pointed out.

“I know.”


	23. Chapter 19

_Blood on his hands, but it's not his. Hyne if only it was his. Then there wouldn't be this quilt, this feeling of hopelessness, this emptiness. Instead he's here, weeping over an already cooling corpse. Cooling by his own actions. And now its all he can do to let go, pull back, slowly stand and turn to face the reason. The reason this had all come to pass. He glares up and out through the fog, trying not to tremble. His arms are weak, his body shaking, his mind reeling, drowning in the red of blood, staining the fog crimson. Blood, he decided, would pay for blood. What other price was enough to pay for..._

Nida jerked awake, his hand reaching up to clutch at the metal harp that hung around his neck. The touch of the metal sent a wave of warmth over him, like a summer breeze. It was like that whenever he touched the pendant with Siren sealed in it. Her touch was a comfort, and Nida could not help but thank her for it. There would be little enough time for comfort in the coming days, and few enough sources, so he was willing to take what he could get, where he could get it. Especially with the dream. How many times had he had variations on the same bloody smoke dream? Every time he closed his eyes since the poisoning it had come to him, the specifics different but the gist the same. And each time it felt more pressing, more immediate, closer to the fog lifting free. That was something he both longed for and feared. The former would tell him who was at risk, the latter might mean he couldn't save them.

With a sigh Nida pushed himself out of his bed—the attempt at rest doing him no goo—and rubbed at his temples. A glance at the clock at his bedside told him he'd wasted three hours at his nap. Hours better spent by packing, planning, setting things in order for his trip. It had taken another hour to get the assembled world leaders to submit to Nida's plan, and from there they moved to strategies and enough pointless chatter to make Nida want to scream. At last Seifer managed to offend enough people, set enough leaders on edge for Squall to call the meeting to a close before everyone was demanding Seifer's head. Nida had been sent back to his room to prepare, only to find himself too tired to think. Now he stood, less time to get ready and no more prepared to think.

At last he pushed himself up from the bed, just in time for the door to chime. With a sigh Nida strode into the main room, calling out as he went. “Come on in, it's open.” Anything else would have made people worry that Nida was plotting something behind his locked doors. What little trust he had earned wasn't going to be thrown away for any illusion of privacy.

Sure enough the door slid open with a whoosh, leaving Seifer to all but stomp in, glowering. Once it might have been amusing to see Seifer in such a state (well, to be honest, had Seifer come in like this when they were cadets, Nida would have freaked out), but now it just made him all the more tired.

“What do you want?” Nida asked.

“That the kind of greeting you spare me these days?”

“When you come in fuming...”

Seifer rolled his eyes before moving further into the room, his eyes darting around quickly. “You haven't started yet.”

“Was tired,” Nida admitted, which only earned him a look that made Seifer seem as tired as Nida felt.

“I was hoping you'd gotten this stupid idea out of your head.”

“Stupid? You were...”

“Supporting something I couldn't see an alternative to, not something I liked. Dammit Nida, you're going to be delivering yourself right into their hands.”

“Glad to see you care,” Nida muttered.

“Don't get me wrong, Nida, but I really don't. I mostly care that whatever they think you're going to get from you, they don't.”

“You don't believe in the power of Hyne?”

“There's a lot of things I don't know what to think of,” Seifer admitted. “I believe in the wild, untamed magic you're supposed to unlock for them. How can I not when I've seen beings like Ultimecia? No, I believe in a lot of things. I just wish I didn't have to. And now I'm supposed to believe that you're putting what may be our best tool into their hands. I can't believe you're letting yourself pushed like this. They'll know why you're coming, when you're coming, most of our plans...”

“Unless Squall doesn't share his plans until the last minute,” Nida pointed out.

The comment put a pensive look on Seifer's face. “That might not be enough if...”

“Xu,” Nida offered the name up, at once eager to know Seifer's opinion and fearful of it. Whether the fear was that he was wrong about her, or that he was right, Nida didn't know.

“You too?”

At last Seifer plopped himself down on a couch and stretched out. A weariness Nida did not associate with Seifer came to dominate the blonde's demeanor. “I've had suspicions about her for a while. Since when wasn't she a good enough shot to take down a stationary target like Elijah was that night? Now, with Squall...”

“She was always more open to this Heir idea than the others. More eager to believe, more eager to hear what I had to say,” Nida added, glad to finally get the words out. Maybe what he had read in Seifer and Squall's expressions when Kadowaki was taking care of Squall had meant more than he had thought.

“The way she reacted to you and the robe, your dreams the first time she heard, what we learned from the Zebalgans we captured, it all seems to point that way.”

“If I had to pick someone as a sleeper agent, it'd be her. She's been with Garden for years, she's intimately trusted by Quistis—and myself, once—and in the position to know not only classified information, but everything there is to know about Garden and it's operation. Xu's perfectly placed, and she can keep a better eye on Balamb Garden than Elijah ever could.”

“And she's been trained to handle lots of different kinds of computer problems, and is familiar with the systems to the point where she can cover her tracks,” Seifer added, shaking his head. “We never had a chance to hide anything from her.”

“If this is all right, then there's a chance she was the one who murdered the captives. We don't know what she's capable of if she's willing to kill her own comrades.”

“The problem is that we don't know what any of them are capable of. All we know is a portion of what they believe, and that coming either from their own mouths or scholars. Can we trust any of it?”

Nida thought back to Elijah, what he'd said the night he'd tried to kidnap Nida, what he'd said on the beach, and sighed. “I don't know what to think anymore. All I know is that I have to be the one to go there.”

“Squall...”

“Would die,” Nida mumbled, but apparently Seifer heard it because there was an incredulous look meeting the statement.

“He's a lot stronger than you're giving him credit for.”

“Strength isn't going to matter,” Nida countered, sitting down himself. “Seifer, after Winhill, you're willing to listen to what I have to say about these dreams?” Seifer nodded, so Nida continued. “In the conference room I had another. Yes, before you cut me off, I know, Squall told me I'm supposed to report them all. But this one, it didn't really give me a chance. You saw he aftermath of it.”

“The 'no?'”

Nida nodded. “I was responding to something I saw. Well, one of the somethings I saw. A variation on one I've had for a while now. Someone dead... But the important thing was what came before it. Squall, dying, and knowing that it was up to me to prevent it. And the only way it was avoidable was for me to make a choice. Either sacrifice Squall's life, or the life of the person I couldn't see but had been dreaming about.”

“What kind of choice?”

“I'm not sure. I think it was the choice I made. Going to the Zebalgans.”

“And how do we know that the other dead person wasn't Squall?”

It was something Nida hadn't considered before, but even as Seifer suggested the idea, Nida knew it wasn't right. There was no rational to the certainty, no explanations, no excuse that made it make sense to even Nida, but he knew it nonetheless. Knew it like he knew the cool feel of metal against his skin was from Siren's necklace, like the feel of his weapons in his hands, almost even as well as he used to know what it felt like to be the center of Elijah's world. If Squall went to the Zebalgans, he would die. If he didn't, he would survive. For how long, Nida didn't know, but the important thing was that he survived. Who else could keep the military forces of the world united, could face the threat of the Zebalgans without backing down, and be willing to sacrifice whatever was necessary—even himself—to win?

“How do you know how to breathe when you're nothing thinking about it?” Nida asked in response, hoping that would be enough to get his certainty through to Seifer. The blond seemed skeptical for a moment, but Nida never expected to be taken seriously in any of this stuff in the first place, so even the sigh that came with Seifer giving in was almost a surprise.

“Fine, if you're sure about this, then there's nothing I can do.”

“There is. Watch out for Squall.”

“Doesn't even need said. From what I saw today, it's going to take a lot of work to keep the Ice Princess from throwing himself at suicide missions for no reason. Was he like this last time?”

“He attacked an entire Garden full of trained military professionals with only two people to back him up. He went after a Sorceress with control over time itself with five companions, one of which was a Sorceress herself with unpredictable powers, and the possibility of loss didn't only mean having their existence destroyed, but that of the entire world. He sparred with an arrogant gunblader who was more than willing to injure his sparring partner for no apparent reason...” Nida said, more than happy to enumerate specific instances of Squall's seemingly reckless behavior, and was only stopped by Seifer shaking his head.

“Injure him? Hyne, does everyone think that was deliberate?”

“When you consider who he was fighting, yeah.”

Seifer shrugged. “Not much I can say in my defense I guess. Always felt it was better practice when you're working with live steel though.”

Nida nodded in agreement. There was something different about knowing your sparring partner really could kill you. The adrenaline flowed in a way that blunted weapons couldn't quite create.

“Well, anyway, I've said my part. Obviously I'm not going to convince you, and this little conversation isn't doing much to get your packing done,” Seifer said with a grunt as he pushed himself back to his feet. “Squall says to send him word when you're ready. He's got some orders that are for your ears only, and after that he's getting the SeeDs together to discuss where you'll be deployed and all those little details.”

“Will Xu...”

There wasn't even time to finish the question before Seifer was nodding. “I think Squall's a little distrusting of her as well, but I can't be sure. He could well have known before us, and intends to include her to make sure we're not dropping you off in the middle of a desert with no one around for days in any direction. The last thing anyone needs is you dying of dehydration.”

That got a half-hearted smile from Nida, and Seifer smirked in response.

“My advice is pack a knife and keep it with you at all times,” Seifer said as he strolled to the door. “Between the Zebalgans that want you dead and Elijah, you might need it.”

Then Nida was alone in his room again, left with only his thoughts and the memories of dreams—futures—yet to come.

 

* * * * * *

 

_There's a hand held out, shadowy and hard to see in the thickness of the smoke. From beyond it a point of radiance framed against impenetrable shadow. White and black framed in gray. Nothing like the blood red in his arms, the dark blue of his uniform. An angel holding out his hand, offering Nida everything he had never had before, would never have a chance at again. Power, glory, recognition, and most of all, life. Tempting, so tempting._

_The body laid aside, and Nida struggling to his feet, weapons left behind as he staggers towards the vision of white and black so deep that even his own uniform seems bright in contrast. And still there is blood on his hands, no matter how much further he steps._

_A ha_ nd on his shoulder and Seifer shaking his shoulder to get his attention, to unknowingly wake him from the smoke that seemed to consume him more and more lately. With a sigh he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes glancing around quickly to see if anyone else had noticed. A quick glance seems to say no one else had, until he met Irvine's eyes. There was something there—realization? sympathy? sorrow?—that Nida wasn't sure how to deal with. 

“...on the commlink,” Squall continued the briefing, seeming to have not noticed Nida's lack of attention as Seifer and Irvine had.

“The issues becomes whether they allow him to keep it or not,” Irvine said, breaking the hold his violet eyes had over Nida by pulling his hat further down, casting his face into shadow. “Even if Boyce, Joshua and Elijah were the only SeeD that defected, they at least are sure to know about our comms. Which means they can easily search Nida for his and destroy it. What then?”

“There isn't much that can be done about that,” Quistis said with a sigh. “No matter what we give him, they will likely find it. All we can do is hope they don't, that Boyce wants a means to communicate with us without a problem.”

“That and keep to the time line we've set up,” Seifer agreed. “Let's face it, once Nida leaves on that flier, he's out of our hands unless the Zebalgans wish otherwise.”

“Another reason I don't think he should go alone,” Zell mumbled, but Seifer seemed to either not hear or he ignored it outright.

“I for one am confident in him doing what is needed.”

“Same here,” Selphie agreed. “Worst comes to worst, Nida can get away to some safe place we set up. I know he can do it.”

“But where?” Quistis asked.

“The ruins,” Nida said, even as the words came from Irvine.

“That's insane!” Zell protested, loud enough this time for Seifer and Squall to both shoot him a glare.

“It's the best idea. We'll see if we can't send in a group to secure the location for you,” Squall countered, halting any further protests from Zell. “That seems to be all we can arrange for now. I'll leave the last of the preparations in your hands, Nida. I'm sure you know what needs done. Check in before you leave and remember, we'll come for you in five days, whether you've contacted us or not.”

Nida nodded, and started to push back from the table as the others were doing when he felt something tap against his shoe. Part of him wanted to turn to Seifer and yell at the blond for kicking him, but as he did he found Seifer leaning back in his seat with a sigh.

“If I can give you a bit of advice about going into enemy territory,” Seifer said, even as Nida felt Seifer tap his shoe again. “Don't stab Elijah out right. From what I got in Winhill, even with that lecture of yours, he'd likely give his life to protect you.”

“I'm not sure about that,” Nida mumbled, turning his attention on the tapping. It was still going on and something about the pattern of it was familiar.

“You could probably shoot him in the foot and find he still has faith in the mighty 'Heir.”

Morse code, Nida realized after another few taps. Apparently Seifer at least had come up with a good way to pass a message with no one else noticing, and was more than willing to hide it with a frivolous seeming conversation.

“Seifer might be right,” Squall agreed, the only other person present save for Xu—who was shuffling through papers and sorting them out—who was still present at this point. “If what you reported from Joshua is true, you will need protection, and Elijah seems to be one of those clearly on your side.”

“Plus he's got authority from what the intel implies,” Seifer added, still tapping away.

' _Three'_ was all Nida had managed to pick out at this point, and he was mentally cursing himself for not refreshing himself on Morse once since he'd passed that test as a cadet. But the question was what 'three' meant. Still, Seifer didn't seem to be about to let up, not until he was sure Nida had gotten the message, which meant keeping up this conversation even though he didn't want to. The more they went down this road, the more likely it was that just  _why_ Elijah was protective of Nida would come up, and he was no more in a rush for everyone to learn that than he had been before. Seifer alone knowing it was bad enough, and he'd at least kept the secret until now. 

“If he is one of these council members, he'll be able to provide you protection, and Megill himself might even order that. If you get guards, don't shake them off,” Squall said, his tone carrying 'this is an order' in ways that Nida couldn't question. Then again, whether Nida would obey or not was another question.

_Three not_ . Three not what?

“Just what I wanted. Five days among the enemy. Some think I'm some kind of legendary person, others want me dead, and I have to try to act as a negotiator and not get myself killed or give away some nebulous secret to the ultimate magic power that I don't even know? I'm starting to regret suggesting this.”

“None the less, you have, and we've no other choice,” Squall said with a sigh.

“I'm just imaging the headlines now,” Seifer said, a mocking tone in his voice. “On every paper you'll see some variation of 'Mysterious Fly-boy Saves World.' At least Squall and the chickies were recognizable by the end. How many people even know your face?”

“Thanks, I'm really comforted by that,” Nida grumbled.

And there, all of the message, looping around again.  _Three days, not five_ . So this was how Squall was going to try and subvert the Zebalgan traitors. How he was going to manage to gather their forces in secret, what was going to happen in three days—a rescue mission or an all out assault—and another ten questions ran through Nida's head, all without any possible answer. Still, it was what he needed to know, even if he had to act like he had more time. Carefully he timed Seifer's next few taps so that he could push back, letting Seifer know to stop. Once the blond had, he tapped an okay back quickly along with the message as he had received it to make it clear he understood.

“But, honestly, I think I'd prefer to finish up the very last of my packing. I'm going to bring a second comm if it is alright, and an emergency transponder. I also wanted to make sure it was okay if I disable the flier once I land...”

“Disable how?” Squall asked as Nida pushed back from his seat and began to stand.

“The self-destruct. Even if they are waiting for me at the landing point, I can quickly arm it, grab by gear, and bail out before they could have any hope of disabling it.”

Squall seemed to ponder this for a moment, before nodding at last.

“If that is what you feel is best, then do it.”

Nida nodded, and with a small gesture, excused himself from the presence of the others. There was very little else to do now. It was time to go.

 

* * * * * *

 

_Ten feet. Five feet. Three feet. A foot. Still the hand waits. This is the only way he can survive. He must take the hand._

_He must be what he was born to be._

_The hand closes around his, and then there is no smoke, no shadow, no fog. Only darkness. Darkness tinged crimson red._


	24. Chapter 20

Centra was a place Nida had never really liked being. The dead, dry land sent shivers up his spine, always had, and he had never been able to explain it. Once he'd thought it was odd that he couldn't put the feeling into words, but these days unexplained feelings were too common to really wonder over. Still, he couldn't help but wonder a bit over the shivers, over why every time he looked at the ravaged land he saw fields of flowers covering it, showcasing the true beauty of the place. Yet it was always a fleeting illusion that passed as quickly as it came, lasting no more time than it took Nida to glance out of his cockpit window and make sure that the place he was circling was free of people or large rocks. Sure enough it lacked both, but that had been the point. Why else choose the second landing sight, several miles off of the position he'd given to the other SeeDs?

He started putting the flier through its landing protocol, glancing out at the barren expanse towards the cliffs where they were certain the Zebalgans were hiding in force. The third glance, closer to the ground than the previous, made it obvious that a group of points he'd almost thought of as rocks were indeed making their way towards his chosen landing spot. They'd clearly noticed that he had no intention of putting down where he had said he would, and were already coming to get him. He'd likely only have the time he needed to unload and destroy the flier before they arrived for him. Then again, he hadn't expected any more than that.

The second the flier hit the ground Nida launched into a flurry of action. He granted a wrench and screwdriver he'd tucked under his seat for this purpose and set about prying panels free, ripping out wires, and smashing anything that came in reach. It might have seemed pointless, but Nida knew better than most just how much could survive explosions like the one he had planned. Soon, though, he was satisfied with his destruction, and tossed his tools aside. With his now free hands he both snatched the duffel he'd packed with one hand, and popped open the cockpit with the other. He took only as much time as it took to turn on the self-destruction sequence and hit the cargo hold release before throwing himself out of the cockpit as well. When his feet hit the ground he turned, grabbed the two weapons he'd stuffed into the hold, snatched up his bag, and ran. In his head he was counting down, and as he got down to ten, Nida thew his bag and weapons ahead of him, smacked the heel of his hand against a spell stone in his pocket, and threw himself to the ground, covering his head as he did, and praying that the protect spell from the stone would help him.

The explosion was loud, and he could feel the heat licking at his back even at this distance, just as he'd been able to feel the tremble in the ground at the blast. For a moment Nida laid still, trying to shake the odd scent of wildflowers he shouldn't have been able to smell over the dirt his nose was buried in or the smoke in the air. Then, with a sigh, he pushed himself back up to his feet and turned to face the blazing wreck before him. With a sigh he reached up to wrap his hand around the mithril harp at his neck, welcoming the cool breeze that flowed through him, a breeze that was not only the touch of Siren, but the rush of power as she offered his paramagic up to him through the physical contact. It was easy to grasp at the quake spell that Siren almost seemed to thrust out at him, and direct it to release in the core of the blazing metal when he held the harp like this. And from the way the spell violently shook the wreck, finishing the destruction, there was no doubting that the spells were still effective enough like this—though admittedly less strong or reliable. It took more asking Siren for the magic than just having it at his call, but Siren was more than willing to help, and even as the quake faded, she seemed to hold the next spell out to him, making it too easy to unleash a torrent of water to dowse the flames.

The hiss of steam was great enough that another person might not have heard the footsteps behind them, but the heightened senses that Siren offered—as available to Nida when he touched Siren like this—meant Nida did. They'd likely come up during the explosion, explaining his lack of notice. But the footsteps now, he not only noticed them, but he knew them. Well, maybe he didn't know them, but Siren did, and when she whispered the name in his ear, his heart ached with longing.

_Elijah_ , Siren whispered, and Nida couldn't tell if she sounded worried or glad.

“I told them that you were smarter than they were willing to give you credit for,” Elijah said, his voice soft and conversational, so familiar that Nida wanted to turn and embrace the man. Instead he stood there, watching the rising cloud of steam and doing everything in his power to not turn to Elijah.

“I'm glad you came,” Elijah continued, coming closer, within an arm's length if Nida was any judge. “I...”

“You know why I'm here,” Nida said, turning and sidestepping the indeed outstretched hand. “It's not for you.”

“Can't blame a guy for hoping, can you?”

_No_ , Nida admitted,  _even if I'd like to try_ . 

“Yes,” he lied, ignoring the pained look he found when he finally met the too blue eyes of his lover. “I can.”

“When did you go cold?”

“When the man I thought I was in love with betrayed me, but I'm pretty sure we've been over this before. I assume you brought transportation.”

“Three cars. Mostly for protection. I insisted. Figured there was a chance you would pull something, so better to protect ourselves,” Elijah said, the casual tone gone, replaced by the cool, brisk tone Nida knew Elijah took when he was dealing with subordinates. “We'll have to blindfold you for the trip. Your comms will be confiscated, as well as your things searched for any broadcasting devices or transmitters.”

“And how am I supposed to relay your demands to my Commander and the other leaders?”

“We both know that isn't what you're really here for, and neither of us are about to pretend it is, are we?”

“I guess that would be a waste of time,” Nida admitted with a sigh. “How long has Xu been one of yours?”

There was a momentary glash of surprise which Nida was glad to have won from Elijah, “You knew?”

“She's too good a shot to miss you, or accidentally shoot Squall in the back.”

“I told her to wing me when she let me out,” Elijah admitted. “She was always so blood-thirsty as a kid, and what she did to my guards was classic repressed Xu. Figured you guys would get to her eventually, but not so soon...”

Nida was stunned to silence, though he supposed he shouldn't have been. He'd always thought Elijah had broken out alone, overpowering one of the guards and using the knife the guard had carried to kill the other. It had been the explanation floated around Garden once Nida was cleared of suspicion, but now he could see, understand just how wrong he was. There was a murder in Garden, and no way to tell anyone about it.

“I suppose it doesn't matter. Her deployment will end soon.”

Something in those words sent a chill down Nida's back. Something of a finality. One punctuated by the darkness that came over his eyes as one of Elijah's men came up behind him and set the blindfold into place.

 

* * * * * *

 

“We're almost there,” Elijah announced, some ten minutes later when the car they were in came to a stop. “So I'm gonna take off the blindfold now. Can't have it looking like we don't trust the Heir when he comes to us.”

“I didn't come for the reasons you'll tell them,” Nida said as he felt Elijah move to loosen the blindfold.

“You came because your ancestor, the great wise man Vascaroon foretold that you would come here to guide us. You're here because this is where you belong. You will stand in the midst of what was once our greatest city, will stand at the same spot the great wise man stood when he gave his vision to us, and you will lead us. Such is your destiny.”

The blindfold slid free, and Nida had to shut his eyes against the bright sun as the car lurched back into motion.

“I don't believe in destiny,” Nida said, keeping his eyes closed.

“It believes in you. Vascaroon did day that the son would come home to the people, and that's what you're doing.”

“This isn't my home or my people.”

“Are you sure?” Elijah asked, and as he did Nida opened his eyes as the words seemed to bid him to do. And as he did, he was met with an unexpected sight.

He had, everyone had, assumed that the Zebalgan camp would be large, possibly organized, but that there would be no real structures to speak of. Maybe some old ruins or overhangs in the canyons that they could use for increased shelter, but not what Nida was seeing now. Sure, there were the occasional tents and obviously temporary structures, but they were only occasional. The better part of the structures were those carved into the cliff faces on either side. A whole city it seemed, carved into the walls with statues, pillars, doorways and windows. The faces of buildings set into red-orange stone, towering above him in beautiful detail, and old beyond estimation. The sight called to mind the Centran Ruins, but Nida had to guess that the designs of the ruins had been based upon this city, a city older than he could even imagine. And it had been hidden away in the seemingly sheer cliffs in a long dead land.

“Beautiful,” Nida gasped, and Elijah chuckled in response as the car came to a final halt.

“I know. It takes my breath away every time. This was once the city of Vascan, the ancient safe haven of the Zebalgan people. It was to this place that our people came when the peoples of the world warred over the body of a fallen god. It was here where the ruler of our people sent out the call for wisdom, and to here that Vascaroon came to give the prophecy that you are to fulfill. After a time our people moved from here, built greater cities, but Vascan—renamed for him of course—has always been our safe haven, our hidden refuge. Even after the fall of our empire, the sundering of our people, and the Lunar Cry, it was to here we came when the descendant of the ancient king called us to come together so that the descendant of the wise man could guide us.”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” Nida mumbled, his eyes busy darting around to take it all in. But the beauty was quickly ruined for him, for even as Nida cast his eyes about, he could see people starting to appear in doorways, in windows, and then pouring out from the stone buildings in every direction.

“It's best at sunrise or set, when there are less people. I'll show you it someday,” Elijah said, the words a whisper so low that even Siren had a hard time carrying them to Nida.

“I'm here for Boyce, not for them,” Nida whispered as people started to lift their voices in cheers and shouts of his name.

“You're here for them whether you want it or not. Nida, you belong here. You are the Heir, and we are your people...”

“These aren't my people,” Nida growled under his breath.

“Can you say that for certain? You're a war orphan Nida, made so in a war where many children were orphaned from many places by a woman who hated our kind. Not everyone ended up having a story like Squall's, you know. We don't always get to learn where were from. Few do. But you...”

“So at last he comes to us! The Heir of Vascaroon stands before us within the city of Vascan, the ancient city blessed by the wise man himself. This, my sons and daughters, is what I told you would come. Before us lies the future we were told of, if we are but ready to step forward and claim it!”

Nida, as well as the better part of the crowd, turned towards the voice, and what he found made his stomach turn. Boyce Megill stood at the top of a set of stairs, his voice booming out—likely because of the stone buildings—over the people. At either side of him and back a step stood a person in a robe and hood—a taller, more heavily built person in brown at his right, and a smaller, lean shape in yellow on his left—but they barely registered in his mind. What caught Nida was the brilliant white of Boyce's robes, made more obvious by the way his arms were spread wide. The white shone in the light, seemingly untouched by the red-orange dust that coated the rest of the place. Yet the most striking thing was the way the black of the doorway framed Boyce from behind. Brilliant white surrounded by pitch black, and red everywhere, tinting the scene. It was familiar and terrible.

Run, part of his mind screamed, a part that was rapidly growing in strength as Boyce started down the steps, still speaking though Nida didn't hear a word that was said. Another, smaller voice told him to wait and enjoy this, revel in the attention and adoration. This had always been what he wanted, hadn't it? Recognition of some sort, whether he desired it or not, wasn't that something to enjoy?

_Not like this_ , Nida growled at himself.  _I didn't want it like this. Recognition for my achievements, when I deserve it, not for being... What I don't know._

At last Boyce stood before him, hand held out to him in greeting. Nida could feel all eyes turning on him, all breath held as people waited for Nida to do something, say something, show some kind of sign.

“He said, 'welcome home my son,'” Elijah whispered, his voice just on the edge of what Siren could pick up.

Correcting Boyce was hardly something that Nida could do right now, not with all the onlookers. If there was going to be no way to contact Squall, then Nida had to do whatever was possible to protect lives, both those of SeeD and their allied forces, and those of these people before him. His only hope would be to connect with these people, to get them to believe him and follow him. And to do that he couldn't' alienate them now. Not totally at least. Still, with too many dreams still fresh in his head, Nida didn't think he could bring himself to take the man's hand.

“You know why I came here,” Nida said in response. And in Boyce's eyes, in his smile, Nida could see the acknowledgment. There was no denying that Boyce could clearly see through what Nida was doing and he thought it was futile.

“We all know why you're here, Mister Nomura,” Boyce said, lowering his hand at last, his smile unbroken. “There is not one among us who has not waited for this say, for you to stand before us. Our people know your face, your name, your story, and we welcome you, Heir.”

“You have met at a distinct disadvantage, Megill,” Nida responded, struggling to keep the edge out of his voice. “Other than Elijah, I don't know any of you.”

“And such a sorrow it does us,” Boyce replied. “But it is a problem best addressed when you are not so weary from your travel, my son. And there is much that it seems we must speak of.”

“Don't call me that.” Nida found himself growling, finally losing control. “I'm not...”

“All of those of the Zebalgan blood are seen as the sons and daughters of the King,” Elijah said. “Sometimes it is literal, but more often it is not so.”

“I'm not...”

This time it was Boyce who cut him off, and there was a gleeful sort of pride in his eyes. “During the height of the Sorceress War, many towns and villages populated by the Zebalgans were attacked. There are many of those among our number today who lost family and friends in the destruction. The final village of our people alone was here on Centra, distant from here. It fell before Adel's wrath, burned to the ground. I was in Trabia with my own family when word reached me, with other news that set the people to mourning. It was said that there was a child there, a boy of two, who had wept for two weeks prior to the attack. When asked why, the child said that all he could see was fire. The boy, we thought him lost in the fire. And yet here he stands before us, and now we realize his gift for what it is.”

All Nida could do was stare in shock.

 

* * * * * *

 

The room Elijah led Nida to was, like everything else, carved right into the stone of the cliffs. When Elijah pushed back the heavy wooden door he revealed a well appointed room, but an oddly furnished one. Shelves were literally cut into the walls, a table made from the natural stone, and even the bed was made of stone, with wooden drawers beneath it, and a comfortable looking mattress atop. And, on top of that was a carefully folded and all too familiar bundle of pale blue cloth.

“The robe,” Nida said, his attention fully and utterly occupied by the bundle, to the point where he barely heard Elijah close the door behind them.

“Boyce would prefer if you were to wear this when you go among the people. A show of solidarity and such...”

“Take it away,” Nida could barely even hear his own voice.

“Better that I don't. Not wearing it is one thing, something the people here might understand, even appreciate. Too many of the Council members were prone to flaunting their status and power through the robes. It's part of the reason that I rarely wear my own. But if you have me carry this out of here, know I have to take it straight to Boyce. That will mean carrying it past quite a few people, and world will carry. It will be clear to everyone that you aren't here for this, and you don't want that.”

“Don't I?” Nida whispered.

“With how carefully you phrased things around Boyce, yes, you don't want that. I'm not sure why, Nida, but you're obviously trying to do something here and do it without upsetting the people.”

“I'm not trying...”

“Do you really think that I can't see through you? How long have we known each other?”

“I don't even know you.”

The response wasn't what Nida expected. Instead of any words, there were two arms around his waist, and the warmth of Elijah's body against his back. It was familiar strength of the arms, the sturdiness of Elijah's chest, it was enough to make him want to give in. But what he wanted and needed were two different things right now. So, after a moment of indulging in the touch, Nida pulled away.

“I wish you wouldn't say that. Dammit, Nida, my uniform may have changed, but I'm still the same person I've always been underneath it.”

“The problem is that I never knew who was under it, Elijah. And now that everything is in the open—who you are, and what I'm supposed to be—after what you've done because of it, how can either of us be the same? And how can I even be sure that you really have told me all the truth, or even the most important parts of it? How do I trust you after this?”

Elijah seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes clearly filled with pain at Nida's words. With a sigh he moved towards the bed and pushed the robe to the side. There was a small gesture, a crooking of a finger that Nida was too used to obeying after all these years, that found him moving to fit by Elijah. Yet her was more than aware enough of the situation to jerk his hand away when Elijah reached for it. For all that he wanted to, giving in now would ruin everything, ruin any hope the world might have, or that Nida might have for getting through this.

“How about this, Nida... Ask me something, anything. No secrets between us anymore. Like it always should have been. Will you trust me then?”

But how would he know the right questions to ask, Nida wondered.

“Who are you?”

The question seemed to confuse Elijah for a moment, and then something clicked, and it made him frown. “You think I lied to you about something as basic as that?”

“You have before,” Nida pointed out. “The whole reason we're here now is because of you lying about who you are.”

“Nida, it's the way we're raised. My, no, our people have hidden our identities for centuries from all but our own kind. Sorceresses have sought to destroy us whenever they rose to power, and we were not well liked in the times of the empire. Secrecy of the blood is sacred, almost as sacred as the respect that most of us hold for you.”

“I never asked for that respect.”

“A lot of us never ask for what we get. You never asked for your blood or responsibilities, and I never asked for mine.”

“Yours?”

“I told you once I had a foster-father, right? I suppose it's mostly true as well. My dad died when I was a kid, and I was adopted by my father's cousin, my only living relative. He's the one who sent me to Garden. He said it was the best way to train me for what I would one day have to become. I was given over to an older student of the blood to learn about the people more, and then my father came to Balamb for a time to train me further. My free time, before you arrived, was spent in the company of my own kind, learning what I had to know for the sake of the people.”

“Your father?”

The question made Elijah flinch, even though Nida could see that he had expected it. Expected it to come eventually, maybe, but Elijah obviously wasn't quite ready for it right now. There was a look bordering on panic plainly written on his face.

“Elijah, who is your father?” Nida pressed, already suspecting but fearing the confirmation.

“Nida, I...” Elijah shook his head, sighed, and pushed himself back to his feet. “Boyce. He's my uncle, my father, my king. I am his last blood relative, and thus his heir. One day these people will look to me for guidance, even as we look now to Boyce.”

It explained a lot. Elijah's place on what seemed to be the ruling council of the Zebalgans, the way he placed his loyalty to Boyce and the people over the ones he would have developed for Garden and SeeD, even why Elijah had been at Boyce's side during the videos and in Nida's dreams. Yet there was plenty it didn't explain. How could Joshua threaten him in front of a man he would have owed his loyalty to? Why had Boyce not kept Elijah at his side if he was so important?

The more important question that came to mind, one that came from years of training, was  _how do I use this?_

Now, though, he had kept quiet long enough, and he could see that Elijah was getting anxious. As much as his mind wanted him to work on putting this new information to use, he had to say something before Elijah just left.

“So, you're kind of like a prince then? The only living prince in the world.”

“I think Seifer would disagree with you on that one, what with that nickname he came up with for Squall all those years ago.”

“Seifer is prone to foolish names. He's taken to calling me either fly-boy or Nidulus.”

“Nidulus?”

“I think he's making a play on cloud types.”

“Ah. Well, I think it sort of suits you. Not like you've got your head up in the clouds or something, but because you always seemed to enjoy flying.”

“And you enjoyed making trouble. Not exactly the Prince Charming out of fairy tales,” Nida teased.

“Hey, it's not like I was supposed to be Boyce's heir. I mean, he never had a son of his own blood, though he has been known to adopt children of the blood. My father was supposed to be the heir of the people, and I had an older brother too. I was just a kid, never carrying about my family line or ancient legends, or anything else.”

“Why not?”

“Because even when I learned all of this, it didn't seem likely that anything would happen in my life. Nida, finding you was something none of us expected. It changed everything. Hell, the reason that the council even met with Boyce in Trabia was because he was retiring. Not just from Garden, but actually abdicating. Giving up his position. I was going not only to honor the man who was my father, but because I was supposed to take up the white myself.”

“What happened?”

That made Elijah sit back down, shaking his head the whole while. “Every meeting of the council opens with certain traditions. One is asking if the Heir has been found. And by Heir, I mean you, not me.”

“And you told him that you thought it was me?”

“I didn't want to,” he said, voice getting weaker with every word. “Please understand that, Nida. I didn't want to. It wasn't hard to see then exactly what would come of Boyce knowing about you. He's always talked about how the Zebalgan people would rise up to their former glory once they held the power the Heir would grant. How the Sorceresses would never again be able to hurt us. That the people would once again rule over all in an era of peace. But Nida, if it was going to be an era of peace, why were there those of our kind trained in warfare? In assassinations? In espionage? The discovery of the Heir by Boyce would mean only one thing, war.

“I knew, when I sat at the council that night, with the question asked, that he would bring our world to the third war in half a century. People I had grown up with, people I cared about, would have to die by my sword. Rinoa, such a sweet, foolish girl, would be killed for what she became, not who she was. Headmaster Kramer's wife would again be a target, and watch the people she loved and raised fight to protect her. And you... The one I had come to love, would be the center of it all, whether he wanted it or not. Nida, I saw what the last war did to you. You're a nice guy, you hate the idea of killing, despite being a SeeD. You're so... I didn't want you to have to suffer the pain that would come from either side. I was going to wait until Boyce handed the power over to me, until I could secure my hold over the people. Then I would reveal you, have you find and awaken the magic of Hyne. What you did with it would be your business.”

“Then why did you tell him?” Nida demanded, pulling away from Elijah. “If you had all these noble intentions to protect people, why didn't you follow through on them?”

Elijah let loose a chuckle, bitter and short. The sound of it was harsh in Nida's ears, lacking everything he had ever known Elijah to sound like. There was nothing like gentleness in it, no love, no true amusement even, just derision and spite.

“The Legend of Vascaroon that is told, even among the people, isn't the full one. Did you know that, Nida? Very few know the whole thing as the council knows it. The truth of the matter is that the piece of Hyne the people came to possess, it wasn't completely void of magic. What there was, the King and his line horded to themselves, passing it along from chosen heir to chosen heir at their moment of accession. It's part of why it's so important that the line of the king has never been broken. If it had, if a king had passed before he could gift on the magic, then we would not be where we are now...”

“What magic? Elijah, you need to tell me.”

“The same power which the god once used to rule humanity. When Boyce turns his attention upon one of the blood and gives them a command, they cannot help but obey it. Such has it always been, and never had I, or any other, thought to question why they could deny him nothing for all of these years. I only learned of this a few years ago, when he began to teach me what would come of me taking up his place. Since then I have watched, and never had he really seemed to abuse that power. He hasn't even used it to deal with the faction within our people who actively speak against you and using the powers of Hyne.

“Or I thought he had never used it. How could I tell if he bent his gift towards another? But that day, as I sat with the council, waiting for the power to pass, Boyce asked the question. And though I had no intention of speaking, I rose from my place and began to tell him about you. The fate of the world, my people, and you in my hands, and I spoke. Still, I won't pretend it wasn't my fault. If I hadn't pressed you into a duel that morning, if I hadn't pressed you on what happened, if...”

“There are a lot of 'if's in the world. Why waste time adding more?” Nida muttered, shaking his head. How was he supposed to believe Elijah when he tried to blame everything on a magic that could only be passed on by choice, and one that had never been heard of before?

_Has it not, little hawk?_

The whisper in his mind almost made him jump, a sudden wave of irrational fear flowing through him, a fear that maybe Boyce had more power than Elijah knew. That maybe he too was susceptible to this unknown power, because of who he was, or this Zebalgan blood that they claimed he had. On the heels of the fear, though, came the feeling of a warm breeze brushing against his cheek, and a slight chill from the metal harp at his neck.

_Siren, you scared me,_ Nida thought carefully, shaping the words in his head and trying to keep them from his lips. The last thing he wanted was to seem crazy at a time like this. 

_I know. We are tied together, are we not? Still, the idea of compulsion should not be foreign to SeeD. Consider what came to pass for the Sorceress Edea, or Rinoa, when they came into contact with the mind of Ultimecia._

_I thought that was because Ultimecia's personality dominated theirs during the possession._

_Oh my hawk, you are far wiser than this. Can you believe in the powers of beings such as myself, or in those of a Sorceress, and not in others that you are yet to see?_

As much as he wanted to respond, wanted to figure out a response, Elijah was looking at him weird, likely concerned that he had zoned out. Nida could see the worry in his eyes, just as he had been able to see it in those of the other SeeDs when he had first spoken with Siren before them. None of them other than Seifer had spent time with Veringas yet, none quite understood what the researcher was doing, and none other than Nida—and Seifer on a single occasion—had a true conversation with a GF. Obviously, neither had Elijah. 

“Nida?”

“I'm having trouble believing what you're telling me,” Nida admitted, not only the truth but a good excuse for his lack of attention. “Whenever we've encountered each other since you went to Trabia...”

“I've been working under absolute orders to bring you to the people, Nida. That no price was too great to pay for you to be before Boyce. No action unacceptable, no life worthwhile if we were to become what we were always meant to be. Only with that charge laid upon me did I learn just how strong Boyce's control over the blood was. Do you think I enjoyed cutting down kids I helped train? Even Alana was important to me, if you can believe that.”

“You two hated each other..”

“Being rivals and hating each other are two different things,” Elijah pointed out, shaking his head. “Well, I guess it came down to hate in the end, but it wasn't how it started out. She was my rival, and not in the self-destructive way that Squall and Seifer handle their rivalry. You know, it was her that got me to stop avoiding after that first time I kissed you...”

He hadn't known, but the very memory of the kiss, the awkwardness that followed, and Elijah's bumbling apology weeks later made him blush. Never had he known just what had gotten Elijah to finally face him, what had spurned the conversation that had turned them from friends to something more. Odd to learn that the object of his first real crush had been the one to encourage a relationship he'd never expected.

“I hate the person I am when Boyce gives me an order, Nida. I hate what he's doing to our people. You need to know that. But, as I said earlier, that doesn't mean I'm not the same person now I always was. Part of the reason that I have done what I have is because, in a way, it's what I wanted. All of it was, in some way, something I wanted to do. Maybe it didn't play out the way I would have liked, but that didn't change the fact that I wanted what happened. I wanted you to be with me, fulfilling the purpose you are meant for, and so I spoke when Boyce asked. I wanted you at my side, free from the place that never appreciated you the way it should have, the people who didn't love you like I did, and so when I was given a chance, I tried to take you. I didn't want anyone coming between us, and...”

Elijah shook his head, and Nida could see that he was biting his lip as well. Saying all this, it hurt Elijah, almost as much as hearing it hurt Nida. Yet the words, they were familiar in a way. Not the exact ones themselves, but the sentiment behind them.

_Hardly. I'm no innocent, I'm a mercenary. Sure, maybe that bitch in Edea pushed me at first, but truth of the matter is that I didn’t' care enough to fight back. By the end I was more than happy to do anything she suggested because it meant power, recognition, glory. Maybe I was prodded, but it was my own desires I was pushed towards._

“It's your desires he uses. Feels them, feeds them, and uses them to direct you. A corruption of your desires, a wiping away of your inhibitions. And you don't really think anything of it because it is, at the core, what you want. Right?” Nida asked, prompted by the memory of what Seifer had told him in Winhill. 

“Yeah,” Elijah admitted, looking a little shocked. “How would you...?”

“Not me. Seifer. He told me something a lot like what you're saying when I found him in Winhill. He was talking about how Ultimecia used him, but it wasn't like she was forcing him to do anything so much as guiding him to do what he really wanted. To win what he'd always sought. I guess you two have more in common than either of you would have guessed.”

“Maybe that is what makes us hate each other,” Elijah said with a chuckle. “We see ourselves in each other.”

“Who knows. But hearing this from you, after hearing it from Seifer...”

“Sad to know you can't take my word on faith, but really, it's my own fault that you can't. Thanks anyway. Something is better than nothing.”

Again Elijah reached out, and this time Nida didn't recoil as his fingers brushed gently across his skin. Before Elijah could say anything else, Nida twisted his hand to grip Elijah's, and intertwined their fingers.

“What matters is that I believe you, right? That I believe you and that I'm here to help.”


	25. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another month, another chapter. This one un-betaed because of SO MANY FINALS and then going to a graduation. Geez, I need more time. But it is what it is. Back to the story.

All of that being said, Nida still kept quiet about the truth of his orders from Squall. He wanted to believe in Elijah, more than anything, but trusting him wasn't something he could afford to do. Seifer and Squall had worked to hide what they were planning from the Zebalgans. Telling Elijah would give Boyce a chance of knowing what was coming. Everything could be ruined by that. The hope of avoiding full on war depending on Nida refusing to trust Elijah, no matter what he said.

Still, not doing anything would make Boyce far more suspicious than acting, so Nida couldn't just sit around with Elijah and wait. He was here to negotiate (though the members of SeeD found the world leaders were foolish to think that any agreement would come), here to try and avert a war. So there was nothing to be done but go out and start working. There had to be information out there, in the hands of those Zebalgans not on the council, that SeeD could use. And there were the surviving members of the council, the ruling body, that Nida needed to deal with. As much as he wanted to curl up in the bed, pressed against Elijah, Nida stretched and stood, pulling away from Elijah.

"I know that look," Elijah said with a sigh, shaking his head. "You aren't even going to take the time to rest, are you? All work and no play..."

"Is what we signed on for when we took the SeeD Exams," Nida countered. "And I wasn't sent here to relax."

"Negotiations won't work. By being here, you've turned over one of the most powerful bargaining chips you had at your disposal. The only thing he will demand now is for SeeD to back down, hand over Seifer and the Sorceresses, and allow the people to achieve the future he desires."

"Nonetheless, this is what I've been sent for. Whether they want to hear what I have to say or not, I am responsible for speaking anyway. Someone will hear me, even if it isn't this council of yours. The people, at least, might listen to me. Maybe if enough of them take my words to heart..."

"That may affect the council's decisions when you speak to them. Unfortunately Boyce..."

"Isn't my problem at this second," Nida countered. "Right now I need to focus on what can be done, not what may stand in the way. I want to speak to the members of the council."

Elijah considered this for a moment. Then, at length, he nodded. "Give me an hour. I'll find and gather the members that are here at the sanctuary. Do you want Boyce to be present?"

"How would people see it if I didn't include him?"

Again Elijah sighed, and Nida nodded. "I thought as much. Yes, him as well. When you've found them, and they agree to speak to me, come and find me."

"Find you? Where are you going to go?"

"While you're doing that, I'm going outside to speak with anyone who will listen to me."

* * * * * *

Finding someone to listen was far easier than Nida had guessed it would be—and he'd thought it would be easy. Even as he strode from his room—alone as Elijah had left to find the other three council members several minutes before—the whispers seemed to start. Someone had seen him leaving the room and had run off at the sight of him, and by the time Nida made it to one of the larger rooms he seemed to remember from the guidance to his room, he found himself facing a large group of people. When he looked over them, his eyes slowly moving over the room, the general buzz of whispers in the background seemed to fade. As if they couldn't speak when their heir looked upon them.

They were a mixed group, as different from each other as Nida could imagine. People with the look of Galbadians and Trabians, ones with the characteristic clothes of Esthar or Balamb, with different colored hair, eyes, clothes. There was nothing shared between them, not that Nida could easily see, except for two things everyone shared: the looks of awe upon their faces, and colored strips of cloth tied around their left arms. Those came in a range of colors, both familiar and strange. Black, gray, brown, blue, red, green, all different kinds of colors. It was the all too familiar shade of red that made him realize just what the bands were. The shade was the same crimson that Elijah had always favored, and the color of the robe Elijah wore in both videos and Nida's dreams. The bands, then, probably represented which division of the Zebalgans a person was associated with. Nida was quite relieved to find that the reds of the fighters, and blue that Joshua had worn were far less common than the browns, grays, and greens. Hopefully that meant that these people would be more willing to hear him out than other colors would.

No one was speaking. Whether they were naturally timid, or just in awe (as their expressions would suggest), it was all just too much for Nida.

 _Ah, but such is the fate of one such as yourself,_ Siren whispered. _Accept that and use it to make you stronger._

 _I don't want it at the price they are asking,_ Nida countered. Still, the silence was almost maddening, and Nida found himself clearing his throat just so something could cut through it.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean to interrupt whatever it is that you were doing,” Nida said, knowing it would sound as foolish to them as it already did to him.

There was a moment of people glancing around at each other, some silent conversation going on. At last some agreement was reached and an older woman with a gray band stepped forward. She had all the looks of a traditional Esthari woman, right down to the robes and the well tended hair. Nida could see how carefully she kept her eyes from meeting his, and when she bowed to him, it was deep and formal. Everything about it was so perfect so careful, so flawlessly executed that it instantly called to mind a similar display. This was exactly how some of the more traditional Esthari treated Laguna or Squall. It was the most rigid, respectful, and proper form of greeting one far above another's station, especially royalty. Was that, then, how these people saw him?

“No forgiveness is required, m'lord. We were awaiting the pleasure of your presence.”

“Please, none of this 'lord' or 'heir' business. My name is Nida, nothing more.”

The woman seemed a bit distressed by this declaration, but she smiled politely as she started to straighten from her bow.

“If such is your desire, then so we shall call you.”

This was going to be far harder than he had thought.

“This isn't about my desires,” Nida mumbled under his breath. Then, louder, “Listen, I don't know what you've been told about me, but I'm not the kind of person that needs, or wants, all of this concern over me. The truth of the matter is that the only thing that has ever made me any different from anyone else I've ever known is the occasional vague dream. I'm just a pilot and a mercenary, nothing more, and probably a lot less.”

“But you're...” the Esthari woman started to say, before trailing off. It was almost as if she feared contradicting him.

“I'm an orphan, twice over. I'm a trained mercenary. I'm a top class pilot, and not too bad of a fighter. There are other SeeDs that can claim several of those things, others who can claim more notable traits. This is all I am, all I'll ever be. Please, understand that.”

Now the mumbling began again, though only in the furthest back areas of the group (which had grown during the exchange). Either people didn't care for what he was saying, or they didn't want to believe it. Still, the first step was hearing the words from Nida, wasn't it? Maybe if he could just get it through to them that he wasn't anything special, that he wouldn't help them, then they could make this stop. Of course, there was always the other potential result: they would think that his time with SeeD had misled him and ruined his ability to take on his role.

 _Things shall play out as they are meant to,_ Siren assured him, her touch in his mind feather light. _In that you must have faith._

So much easier said than done.

“M'lord, I do not understand,” another person spoke up, a young man about Nida's own age with the look of Trabia and a scarlet armband. “Do you deny that you are the heir which was promised to us?”

“I've been told that I am this heir, and I admit to having some of the characteristics that have been described. There are some nights that I dream, and later the dreams seem to come to pass in some way. But rarely is it ever exactly as I've seen. But never have I seen a path to what your people seem to desire.”

“We are your people,” a voice called from the back of the crowd.

“I'm sorry, but the only person whose word I have on that is Megill's. Before what he set in motion I never knew the man, and I have heard men after far lesser ends tell far larger lies. I do not know him as your people do, and so I cannot put my faith in him as readily as you do. All I know about Megill is that on his command many good people have died. He has called for the head of a man who, though misguided at one point, has saved my life on several occasions. He has condemned women who have done no crime save for being born with abilities others do not have, and since I'm born with abilities others don't seem to have, how can I justify judging them?”

“The Sorceress Knight saved your life?” the first woman asked. She seemed genuinely curious, as did many others around her, so Nida couldn't help but smile.

“Would it be too much to ask for one of you to see if they can't find me a seat?”

Before there was even really time to think beyond the end of the question, someone was pushing past the edge of the crowd , a chair held tightly before them. The young woman finally made it free of the crowd, and placed the chair on the floor between Nida and the crowd. When he smiled at her, she blushed, bowed her head, and backed away. It gave Nida just enough time to reposition the chair and sit down, a sign for the others gathered to take a seat as well, though most of them did so on the floor. Whether that was because enough chairs couldn't be gathered quickly, or they were operating on the old tradition of not having their heads above that of a person they considered powerful, he couldn't be sure.

“Yes, I owe my life to Seifer Almasy, possibly for more reasons than just the obvious one. What it comes down to, though, is what happened in Winhill. As you may know, I was raised in Winhill, and the village is dear to me. So when I saw the village in a dream, with violent forces ringing it, I had to act. Nor could I go alone, because Seifer was ordered to watch over me. I convinced him to join me, which was the best choice I could make. Because in Winhill I encountered more than just Elijah, who I expected and meant me no harm. There was another man there, by the name of Joshua...”

There were a few scattered gasps of shock, though Nida didn't note any from those wearing blue bands. No, he saw anger in the eyes of those wearing the blue bands—they knew where this was going. They at least knew who Joshua was, that he was dead, and now guessed it was at Seifer's hands. How shocked were they going to be?

“Seifer and I were caught up in a fight with Elijah. None of us were expecting Joshua to be there. None of us knew just what he would do. Joshua tried to kill me. The first attempt Elijah prevented, leading to our finding out that he was part of a Zebalgan group that felt that the 'heir' was not necessary. Because Seifer was there, I only had to focus my efforts on staying alive. I dealt with Joshua, was forced to kill him to save my own life. Seifer helped tend to my wounds, and when we later discovered that Joshua's blades had been poisoned, he stayed by my side until Doctor Kadowaki managed to cure me. While that may not seem like a lot to some of you, those of you who have been in combat know quite well just what it is worth to have someone protecting your back so you can face someone without fear. What is more, when Garden was attacked, he was at my side fighting, to defend our friends and people we were responsible for. He has done more than enough to redeem himself in my eyes.”

There was more talking now, even some clear outrage in the listeners. Whether it was over Seifer, Joshua's betrayal, or Nida's killing of Joshua was unclear, but there was no denying the outrage.

“I guess what I'm saying is that the past isn't what matters if you manage to put it aside to make a better future. Seifer has saved my life, spared it once or twice, and has stood by me through all that has been happening. How could I stand by Megill's demand to see him dead? If I am to trust Megill, I must have a reason to. He'll have to earn it.”

“And I expect he shall work to do so,” Elijah's voice came, even as his hand came down on Nida's shoulder. Something about the action, the touch, made Nida shudder— _a memory of a dream he could not place_ —but he tried to hide the fact. “The council, such as it is, has summoned you before them. I am sorry to take you away from your audience but...”

“I understand,” Nida said, rising from his seat and stretching. “I was just telling them about the beach outside of Winhill.”

A furious look flashed across Elijah's face, and pushed past Nida with hardly a thought.

“Listen here,” Elijah said, addressing the crowd, “if I hear about any one of you holding Nida responsible for the death of Joshua, I will drag you before the council myself. Boyce, if no one else, will have something to say about that. Anyone who would strive to slay the Heir, who we have been waiting for, deserves punishment. The only thing I regret is the fact that Nida had to have that fool's blood upon his hands. Even in death Joshua was undeserving of the attention of one such as Nida.”

There were some nods of agreement, murmurs that Nida could barely make out as affirmation of Nida's words, and even several proud nods. Then again, there were a few smoldering looks of anger directed at Elijah. Nida carefully marked those men and women—again mostly those with blue bands—so that he could describe them later to Elijah. It was likely that he wouldn't know them, but he might know someone who would.

“Now, Nida, we must be going. Patience is not a virtue the council has been practicing of late.”

* * * * * *

Nida stood silently before the carved stone doors of the room where he would meet the remains of the council that ruled the Zebalgans. Well, 'ruled' from what Elijah had told him wasn't exactly true. Boyce Megill was the one who ruled here, no matter what the council thought. All he could do was hope that he gave some thought to what his council might suggest to him. Squall was prone to taking advice, but who knew what this man would be like.

He'd been left alone on this side of the door—carved with the images of some of the lost GFs Nida had seen before, and other creatures he had to assume were other Gfs—while Elijah joined the council. There was ceremony and traditions and such that demanded Elijah's presence, demanded that Nida arrive on his own, unsupported by anyone. Of course it had demanded one other thing, and to that Nida had been unwilling to relent. It demanded that any member of the council must attend in their robes, and that the heir was instantly considered a member of the council once he would arrive to join the people. Of course, no one could come before the council without reflecting their position among the Zebalgans. To this end Elijah had returned Nida to his room to cut a strip of fabric from the discarded pale blue robes. That was now pinned in place around Nida's left arm, marking him clearly as what these people insisted he was. It stood out, bright and accusing, against the navy blue of Nida's SeeD uniform.

Still, it was what was required of him, and whatever he needed to do to be taken seriously was what he was going to do. He needed to remind them that he was more than just their supposed heir, he was a SeeD, and here to avert war. Here to protect not only their people, but all peoples. Hopefully this would be enough to remind them.

Three sharp knocks came from the stone door, and with a sigh Nida stepped toward the door. As Elijah had told him, it started to swing upon as he approached, soon revealing a dark room with only a few points of light focused on four robed figures sitting on stone chairs. As Nida moved past the doors, they began to swing shut behind him—how were they even doing that—and the only thing he had to focus on were the four. Straight before him was Boyce Megill, clad in his blindingly white robes, and to his right Elijah slumped in his chair, red robes bunching up around his legs (Elijah had never been fond of clothing that restricted movement). To Boyce's left were the two council members that had stood at the top of the stairs at Nida's arrival, their hood still pulled forward to conceal their faces. One wore a shade of yellow almost as blinding as Boyce's white, the other was in the brown that a good deal of people Nida had seen were wearing. This time Nida wracked his brain for what the colors meant, knowing he'd heard Squall mention it after Andria's death.

Yellow was research, so that made the person up there the head researcher for these people. Brown meant support work, which went far in explaining why there were so many more of them than any other colors from what Nida had seen. It was the reds, greens, and blues that Nida had to be the most cautious around. Them and Boyce. If what both Elijah and Boyce had said were true, Nida might be as vulnerable to whatever compulsions Boyce might try to place upon him.

 _Which might be what that recurring dream is warning me of,_ he thought, mentally sighing.

 _I will protect you, little bird,_ Siren promised. _Always I will protect you._

If only that was a comforting thought.

“We see you, promised heir, and welcome you before this, the chosen council of our people,” the woman in yellow said, and woman she was from the sound of her voice.

“And for that, I thank you,” Nida said, bowing. “But I would ask that I not be numbered among the people. Forgive me, but at this point I have no reason to believe the assertion that I am of Zebalgan blood. I am an orphan, and none has ever claimed me save a solitary woman in Winhill, who I know was not of your people.”

“Believe what you will,but in the eyes of the people and this council, you are counted as one of us. In fact...” the woman said, only to be cut off.

“We must respect his choice,” the man in brown said, cutting the woman off. “We all know that we have nothing more than suspicion regarding the bloodline of the heir. All we can be sure of is that he is of Zascaroon's line, and that we know only because of what little information that has been revealed to us through our sources. It is better for us to base our decisions in fact than upon suspicion.”

“Can you not live a little on faith?” the woman in yellow demanded.

“For someone of the yellow, who claims to be a scientist, I would not expect faith to be high on your list of concerns,” Elijah said, shaking his head. “Either way, can't we just be thankful that he chose to bear the color at all? We know his opinion of our people and traditions, his stance on what the people desire, and most of all, we know he's here as a representative of SeeD and many others, not as the heir. Perhaps his uniform will remind us of that.”

“Yes, rather fitting he wore both his uniform and the color. I wonder what motivated that decision...” Boyce spoke at last, glancing at Elijah from the corner of his eyes. “Regardless, he is here now, and would speak to us. So please, let him speak.”

The brown and yellow clad council members sighed and sat back further in their seats, whereas Elijah actually sat up straighter, obviously on edge. Nida, though, was left standing. It was a choice that Nida could almost applaud Boyce on. They'd covered ways to turn interviews into more subtle interrogations, and one rule was denying someone a seat. Standing around for a long period lead to tension in body and mind, and it became easier to learn what you wanted. Of course, knowing what was going on was one of the best ways to reverse the expected power balance. All he had to do was hope that Megill wasn't as familiar with what classes and specialties Nida had taken during his training.

“I thank you for seeing me, and would begin by asking that you all take the purpose for my presence seriously. As Elijah has pointed out, I'm not here in the role of heir. I am here as a representative of SeeD, Garden, and the united leaders of the major nations of this world. It is my hope to broker a lasting peace between your people and those of the world. We only have several days to make this peace before I am required to report to my superiors. If I do not, they will come for me, regardless of the cost. Because of this, I have been given full authority to make agreements on behalf of Garden and SeeD, as well as Esthar. They will hold other nations to any agreements made here that I advise them as acceptable. Is this understood?”

Nods all around, though Boyce's was slower coming than the others.

“I am also to tell you that the first and foremost thing that the Gardens and Esthar will not agree to is surrendering me permanently into your control. There is a fear, and one I feel may be justified, that you would abuse whatever power you used me to find. Beyond that they may entertain other agreements. I also have something to say on my own behalf.”

“Your personal input is always welcome before us, heir,” the brown clad man said.

Nida nodded in thanks to the man, he seemed to be the most rational here, before continuing. “If I truly am this heir that you have been waiting for, then your wait hasn't ended. We've all lived through two wars, and the kind of power that Hyne should have is too great to not cause another. And that is just the conflicts that would come from the power itself, not even what might rise if Hyne guards the magic himself. The world needs a chance to recover from all of the ill that has been wrought upon it in the name of power. If the wars have taught us anything, it is that power can only lead to war if it is not properly handled. And while I can't be sure that the Zebalgans would handle it either poorly or well, the fact of the matter is that someone always tries to step up and claim too much power.”

“And you would not say that some people, such as Esthar with its technology, or Garden with its magically powerful SeeDs are not claiming too much power?” Boyce questioned.

“Esthar is currently run by a man who has more reason to loathe war than anyone else I know. Laguna Loire faced Adel to end her oppression of her own people and others. He didn't do it for power, but for others he saw suffering, and for a little girl. What did it win him? He lost his wife and son. Even when he gained the latter back, it was as the world was again faced with war, when the little girl was again being pursued by dark forces, and when the world needed him to be strong. But beyond that, has Esthar ever made a hostile move since Laguna came to be their leader?

“As for Garden... To assume that being able to use para-magic is too much power, I counter with what I've seen of your own people. I have seen both Salamander and Mateas, and I can testify first hand as to how powerful the latter is. This means your own people have access to para-magic, and as Elijah, Joshua, and I'm sure others had access to the SeeD training, they know how to make the best use of it. But we all know the repercussions of that power. Surely Elijah has told you, and that you, Megill, are aware that Garden discourages the maintained junctioning of GFs at this point, and attempt to limit use thereof even in combat. The cost is too high... What we lose may be so much more important than what we gain.”

“But do you deny that Garden is furthering their research into the use of Guardian Forces through the intervention of Dr. Veringas?” the woman in yellow demanded. “Surely that shows your willingness to fight.”

That was a bit of information Nida hadn't really thought would get back to the Zebalgans. Why he thought that he wasn't sure, after all Xu had been privy to the information, but he hadn't. But it said something that these people cared that Veringas was at Balamb Garden.

“He was called in to study those GFs we have acquired from Zebalgan agents. It was Doctor Kadowaki who contacted him, and may I say that she never has, and likely never will, be a proponent of war. Veringas himself only cares about his research.”

“Research into GFs. Who is to say that he is not working to better weaponize the GFs? To minimize the repercussions of using their power?” she countered.

Nida sighed and shook his head. Chances were that these people would not believe what he was saying.

“No, I do not believe that Garden's control of para-magic is any more dangerous than your control of it. Nor do I believe it would be turned against your people unless the issue was forced.”

“And if it were forced?” Boyce asked.

“Then Garden... Then _I_ would work to stop you. We will not allow any more wars. The world needs time to recover, and we won't let you prevent that. Peace is within our reach, and we won't let you take it from us.”

Boyce seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he nodded and rose. “We shall take your words into consideration, but I do not believe we are able to put forth any requests to be discussed at this point. I would ask that you return to us at this time tomorrow. By then the council will have had time to consult and reach our conclusions. Elijah, would you be so kind as to guide the heir back to his rooms, or anywhere else it would please him to go?”

“Of course, my lord,” Elijah said, rising as well. The other two, though, remained sitting. “May wisdom guide your decisions.”

“I would have you guide them as well. You are my successor. Return here this evening. I would hear your words.”

“As you wish.”

Boyce moved around the back of his chair and all but disappeared into the darkness, the yellow clad woman and brown clad man following. It left Elijah and Nida alone in the dark room. Black and red and the stark white of the stone chairs.

“I really don't know why I expected you to get through to Ashura. She isn't as reasonable as Vernon can be, and Boyce...”

“To be honest, I don't expect him to relent without others forcing him to. I have every intention of continuing to work with the people themselves...”

“Might be your best bet.”

Nida nodded in agreement. “But before that, I want to know more about the layout of this place. I must be able to come and go to where I need to when you are not around.”

Elijah nodded, even as he started to walk towards Nida. As he walked he started to pull his robe off, tugging it over his head until all that was left was a pile of red fabric in his hands. Since he looked about ready to drop the thing—half in disgust, half in annoyance—Nida snatched it from him and started to fold the robe. Once that was done he passed it back to Elijah, who just smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Can't you ever just let me do what I want?”

“This hardly seems like the kind of place you want to leave that lying around. You might annoy someone.”

“What do I care?” Elijah asked, chuckling. “Come on...”

Nida couldn't help but smile as he followed Elijah.


	26. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I got summer break anymore. Well, I suppose I shall next summer. As it is, to graduate when I want to and get all the classes I want, I'm already back in classes. That said, they are pretty interesting. But, the interesting thing right now is what's up with the story. 
> 
> This is quite a short chapter. I hope you forgive me for it. Then again it's short because it needs to be. What happens next has always been intended to occur as Chapter 23. But, hey, aren't you all lucky. Chapter 23 is being released soon anyway, so it's not like a short chapter is going to hurt, right?

_The room is darker than he remembered, but with little more than a few flickering torches along the walls to light it, what did he really expect? The walls here weren't the same red-orange sandstone as they were everywhere else, but ones of black marble, and while they were polished to a shine, the black still seemed to drink in the light. Further ahead, untouched by the light of the torches, were the stairs, black shot with veins of brilliant white. Those were his goal, well, what was beyond them in truth. If he didn't shut down the system, all of his work here would have been for nothing. More people would be hurt than was even remotely near necessary. So, taking a deep breath and steeling himself against the shock he knew would come when he stepped over the threshold, he strode forward, his hand wrapped around the cold metal of the mithril harp._

_Sure enough he felt the unnerving rush of fear followed by an emptiness in his mind that worried him ever since he'd grown used to junctioning. Siren seemed gone, lingering only as a prickle of warmth where the harp pressed against his hand. But that wasn't the only rush of power that went through the room as he strode forward. Lights flashed into life before him, forcing Nida to shield his eyes before the sudden glare. When he finally felt like his eyes had adjusted to the light, he lowered his arm and looked about. His eyes rose to the stairs, now visible in the artificial light that filled the room, and the two people who stood there..._

_Darkness, a flash, a swirl of fog, and he's standing at the base of the stairs, a hand held out towards him. It's an offer, one he doesn't know how to refuse, how to accept. The hand almost shone in the light, an angel holding out his hand, offering Nida everything he'd never had before, would never have a chance at again. Power, glory, recognition, and most of all, life. Tempting, so tempting. When he looks at his own hand it's covered in scarlet, in the blood of the man he'd just killed. He's tainted, in ways he can't even begin to fathom, and yet he's reaching out as well, his hand lifting. All he had to do was put his mind to the task ahead, open himself to the voice that had always been there, somewhere in the back, somewhere waiting for him to submit to the will of Hyne. All he had to do was take the offered hand. Reach out and..._

“Nida. Nida! Geez Nida, wake up,” someone is saying as they shake him. No, not shaking him. Yes, there were arms wrapped tight around his torso, but they are warm and comforting and they refused to let go despite how bad Nida's trembling. Hyne, if it wasn't for the fact that Elijah was holding him so tightly, so close, he might have just trembled himself right off of the bed.

“I'm awake,” Nida mumbles, more into the pillow than aloud. Elijah hears it though, is too familiar with the behavior to not pick up on it.

“Now if only you could stop shaking so bad. Are you cold?”

Surprisingly, he wasn't cold at all. He'd have thought that in a room made of stone, on a stone bed, all of it set deep into sandstone cliffs, would have guaranteed cold. Yet the whole night he hadn't woken with a chill, the meager looking blanket that Elijah had used had been more than enough. With a sigh he shook his head and pressed further back against the other man.

“Not cold. Just...”

Just what? What could he say, could he claim, could he even begin to blame for the way he was shaking? He knew, though, where the blame lay. In the dreams, the crystal clarity of the surroundings, of the thoughts, of the movements. In the fact that the people he'd seen had been obscured by a smoke. In the knowledge of his surrender to things he knew he had to fear.

“It was just a dream.”

Of course, that didn't get Elijah off of his back, so to speak. Once it might have, but now that Elijah thought—knew—about what those dreams might mean, it wasn't going to work. A dream meant so much more now than it had only months ago. They were potential futures, not wanderings of a sleeping mind. And Nida wasn't even sure that he'd let it go if he was in Elijah's place.

“What about?”

“Do we have to do this, Elijah?”

“Do what?”

“Treat my dreams as if they're the only thing that's important.”

The arms around his chest tighten, and he can feel Elijah's face bury itself into the back of his shoulder. For a minute they're silent, breathing, just caught up in living and lying there together, in pretending that nothing has happened. It's as if they're wishing so hard that they could just go back to what they were, who they were, when they were just students at Garden. When their days were happy, their nights were lazy, and the most important thing they had to consider was whether or not they were going to pass the next test. Now here they are, caught up in the fate of the world, too afraid to face it, and all to aware that they couldn't deny it even if they wanted to. Still, they steal their moment together, before Elijah moves away, and Nida starts to wiggle out of his grip.

“You know I can't tell you,” he says at last. “I trust you, I really do, but I don't trust what Boyce can do to you. If I tell you...”

“He might be able to use it against you.”

Nida nodded, though he hated the admission. Hated the idea of his dreams being a tool. Hated the dreams in their whole.

“This one... I'm certain he can use it against me. He...”

He's there, Nida knows. In one, in both of those dreams. Boyce, standing at the top of the stairs, Boyce holding out his hand and tempting him. Blood on his hands. Lives depending on him. All of it set into a place of black marble hidden deep in red-orange sandstone. Whatever this dream was that he'd been having since his poisoning, it was coming to a head soon. Something was about to happen, and there was nothing he could do to avoid it. Maybe there never had been.

“I don't want to think about it,” Nida mumbled. “I don't...”

“I understand. Just relax. I'm not going to ask anymore. Just... tell me you're okay.”

“I'm fine.”

The words are a lie even as he speaks them, because there's a sharp pain in his leg, and Nida's curling in on himself, his hands going to rub at the flesh. An echo of an old pain, coming back just as he'd dreamt it would. More assurance that the time was coming. And with the pain a flash of memory, of holding a body in his arms, of blood everywhere on a black floor, of loss he couldn't even explain.

“What's wrong?” Elijah demanded, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His free hand came to rest on Nida's leg, right where Nida was massaging his leg. With the touch came a rush of cool, healing energy. The pain didn't fade, though. How could it when it all seemed to be in his mind?

“An echo of pain,” Nida whispered, still rubbing. “Kadowaki says there shouldn't be any, but there it is anyway.”

“Let me guess... the cut you got from Joshua.”

“The blades were poisoned.”

“He was never a fair fighter. “

“I wish you'd told me that at the time. I barely managed to survive this thing. If we'd known...”

“There was nothing that could have been done for you in Winhill anyway,” Elijah pointed out. “And it wasn't like you really gave me a chance to talk.”

“Can we just stop talking about this?”

“Then what do you want to talk about?”

Nothing. Anything that wasn't this. That wasn't dreams and Hyne and Zebalgans and destiny and all of that. But it wasn't like he could run away. His hands were still busy trying to work away the phantom pain. Soon Elijah's hand was joining in, still cool with the power of cure spells, for all that it wouldn't help.

“Nida...”

“Once this has passed, we need to get out of bed.”

“I'd rather just stay here.”

“Me too. But we can't. There's too much to do.”

“There's always too much to do.”

Elijah sighed, likely agreeing, and pulled his hand away. “You're such a buzz kill.”

“Thanks. But you know it's true. I need to try and find a way to get in contact with Squall. I need to convince the two on the council. I need to speak more with the people.”

“All of that is easier said than done.”

“Nothing worth doing is easy,” Nida pointed out. “Now come on. I need you to try and find me a communicator.”

“I've been forbidden from...”

“Please, Elijah. Try...”

Elijah was quiet for a while, obviously caught up in thought, and then he was moving, crawling to the foot of the bed and slipping from the edge. Nida followed his movement with his eyes, and couldn't help but smile as the red-haired man danced from one foot to the other, whimpering all the while over how cold the stone was. It was amusing to watch, almost enough so that it broke the tension in the room.

“What did you expect?” Nida chuckled. “It's a stone floor.”

“But the bed was so warm.”

“Oh stop your whimpering and find your socks.”

“You don't even have any pity for my poor feet, do you? You're so mean.”

“Mean? Hardly. What have I done to earn that?”

“You laughed. Maybe you don't even get how cold it is out here. Maybe you should learn...”

And then Elijah's grabbed the end of the blanket and whips it off of the bed with a flourish, laughing all the while.

* * * * * *

The day is much like what the first one was. Everywhere he went he was followed by a group of Zebalgans, and when he paused a chair always seemed to appear. So Nida would sit and speak, and try to make these people understand that this wasn't a war, that the SeeDs weren't their enemies. Some listened, but more often than not those men and women with blue, black or even red seemed to distrust him. Others, though, seemed to hang on his every word, and would appear whenever he paused to speak. The looked upon him as if he was some kind of prophet—of course in their minds he was—and every word that came from his mouth was the purest truth. It hurt to watch them like this, but he needed that faith. Tomorrow evening the SeeD force would come, and the more people who would not take up their weapons against them, the better. Unfortunately, it was the reds and blacks and blues that were more likely to be involved in the fight anyway, and those who seemed the least willing to listen to his words.

It was nearly noon when Elijah, off about some errand or another, reappeared at his side, and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“I think I've found a way to get you in contact with Garden.”

As soon as he could, Nida brought his latest story to the Zebalgans to an end, one explaining what the woman Ruth had done to some poor innocent people and how they had helped the Galbadians, and excused himself to follow Elijah. The red-head was careful to lead them through a few areas where the general Zebalgan population weren't allowed, before bringing him at last to a set of large ebony doors.

“This is a place that normally only members of the council and select others are allowed to come. Through these doors is a room that hides some of our surveillance equipment, among other things.”

“Things like?”

“Well, beyond communication equipment, there's a device in there developed based on the power of one of the special GFs that we possess. Boyce's GF that is. It actually manages to block the abilities of any other GFs in the area immediately around it. A few decades back one of our scientists working with Odine found a way to amplify that power, and now whenever Boyce is here, we use the power of his GF to prevent the use of GFs within the whole of this canyon area.”

“I've never heard of any kind of power like that before,” Nida said.

“Junctioning doesn't work, paramagic doesn't work, none of it. Right now the machine's on a low setting. We turned it down so you wouldn't suspect, but...”

“When SeeD comes in a few days, the thing will be turned up to it's maximum intensity.”

Elijah nodded in agreement. “Right now the chamber before the controls is already protected that way, not to mention the fact that Boyce is so tightly bonded to his GF that if we were to set foot into the room, he would know we'd done so.”

“So I can't use this until the last minute.”

“Pretty much.”

“But it only activates if we enter?”

Elijah nodded, and before he could say anything Nida pushed at the door, watching it swing open just a crack. When he looked in through the crack he saw the very thing he knew he would: a room not of red-orange sandstone, but of black marble, and in the distance stairs of the same stone, but shot with veins of white. Here, then, it would happen. And if it happened at anytime at all, it would be tomorrow. Whatever he'd been dreaming, it would happen here, tomorrow.

“Nida... SeeD is going to attack us, isn't it?”

“What choice have you given them?” Nida asked. “The council won't consider peace, Boyce is obsessed with something we can't let him have, and I can't be left in his hands because if I am everything you claim I am, I might be as vulnerable to his whims as anyone else. What do you expect us to do?”

“People are going to die, Nida. My people. Your people.”

“They aren't my people,” Nida hissed. “The people I grew up with at Garden, they're my people. The people in this world that Boyce is threatening, they're my people. The people of Winhill that were threatened just because they had faith in the sons of villagers... Dammit, Elijah, I won't stand by anymore. I'm doing everything I can but... One way or another people are going to die, and I'd rather it not be people who are truly innocent of any crime.”

“And what crime are we guilty of other than faith?”

“That isn't for me to decide.”

“Then who gets to decide?”

That really wasn't something that he had an answer for, so he just turned away from the door, and looked back the way he'd come. “Will the council see me again tonight?”

“Yes, but if what we discussed last night when you weren't there gives any indication, there isn't much chance that you'll like what you hear.”

“Well then, tell me now so I'm prepared for disappointment.”

“Ashura has convinced Boyce, or maybe he's convinced her, that you can't be allowed to leave our possession. They are preparing our people for battle in three days when SeeD is due to arrive. Vernon, the leader of the browns, doesn't agree. He hates war, hates to see blood spilled. Not that he's incapable. He is of a sect of our people who believe that if we are not led by a willing heir, then we cannot unlock the power of Hyne.”

“Then there is no point in trying to speak of peace.”

“No,” Elijah admitted with a sigh. “Not the slightest point. While my vote counts for something...”

“He's all but ordered you to agree with him.”

“I'm sorry, Nida. I really am.”

“I know. Hyne forgive me, I know.”

* * * * * *

The halls are cold at night. It really isn't a surprise, but it's something that doesn't bother him to think about. It's easier to think about, easier to care about than what he knew had to come tomorrow. Just as Elijah'd said, nothing had been achieved in the council meeting except for posturing from both sides. Boyce knew that Nida wasn't giving himself over willingly. Nida knew that Boyce wasn't going to let him leave. The meeting went on for almost an hour, and nothing was said, nothing was done. In the end Nida had grown far too frustrated to deal with the anymore and stormed out. He'd even managed to conjure up enough of a tornado spell to slam the stone doors behind him. It had been childish, but so satisfying to hear the bang. And, in the end, Elijah had not returned to his room. So here he was now, wandering the halls in the dead of the night.

In the morning he'd have to lower the defenses and contact Squall, he'd have to hold the black marble room against the Zebalgans, which was what prompted his wandering now. When he'd been brought to this place, the pair of polearms that he'd brought hat been taken from him. There was no doubt he'd need them tomorrow...

_Blood, blood on his hands. He'd killed him, he knew it. His polearm was buried in the man's heart..._

 _I'm sorry that you must do this, my little hawk,_ Siren whispered in his mind.

“It'd be nice if I didn't have to do this all on my own,” he mumbled, regretting it instantly because of the way his voice echoed around the halls.

_I don't want to leave you,_ Siren sighed.  _But if what Elijah says is true..._

_It is. I felt it in a dream. What comes tomorrow I have to face alone._

_My dove..._

Nida shook his head, continuing his stroll through the twisting passages. It would be nice if he could have her force behind him—the junctioning of magic to his body, the heightened senses, the paramagic—but he'd fought without it before, and would likely be forced to again. A Garden cadet's first training was always without a GF. You couldn't count on them to always be there, to be strong enough, to be close enough bonded to be of use.

_I'll survive,_ Nida promised.  _Have faith in that, Siren._

_How can you be sure?_

_Dreams._

There was a mental sigh with that comment, apparently Siren was no more happy with that idea than Nida was.

_You know, half of the fun is gone when you know what happens._

_Maybe, but when it's a smoke dream, it does help._

_And was this a smoke dream you had?_

No. What he saw would happen. Something told him that clear dreams couldn't be changed. They would pass as they would pass. Only smoke could be changed, only smoke swept away. He'd acted to late to avoid what was coming.

_Nida..._

_Please, let me be alone._

When he said it, he pulled the chain around his neck out, taking the mithril out of direct contact with his skin. While he'd been hiding it before, he left it to lay on top of his shirt instead of below it. With out the contact she couldn't speak to him. So he was again left alone in the silence of the stone halls. And maybe, just maybe, it was better this way.


	27. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens in this chapter is the very reason why the story even came to be (other than a story request by a friend). Now comes the first scene I ever imagined for this fic, long before the idea was even beginning to be fleshed out (five years ago, plus or minus a week or two). It was the beginning of Elijah, of Boyce, of what Nida would be and would have to do. The story, in a way, exists for what comes now, evolved to create this moment, to build up to it, and to show the result of what was to come of it. And so, I give you the true driving factor of this story, a moment I have feared and embraced since I first imagined it. Enjoy. And know that the story will never be the same...
> 
> There will be a short Interlude next normal update day (July 23rd), then nothing until August. Sorry, I need a bit of downtime. You'll understand why soon enough.

It hadn't taken him long past when he'd broken contact with Siren to find the room where his weapons had been stored. But even after he'd managed to get his hands upon the halberd and glaive, he couldn't find it in himself to sleep. The rest of the night he spent in that room, weapons in his lap and whetstone in hand, sharpening the blades of his weapons until they were sharp enough to cut a hair. When that was done he wrapped and rewrapped the leather grips on both weapons until he was satisfied with them. He thought and planned and waited, refusing to close his eyes, to dream again. To see just who it was he would have to kill, or what might happen when he took the offered hand. There was such a thing as knowing too much of the future.

When dawn finally came, Nida knew it. He could hear people starting to move beyond the safe, small room that he sat in, and the longer he sat, the more frantic the sounds beyond the door became. Someone had noticed that their heir was missing, and the search was on. Sooner or later they would find him. Sooner or later he would have to act. At last the noises started to grow too loud, too close, and he quickly coaxed Siren from her charm and into that familiar place in his mind, calling for her power to protect him. Soon he'd be found, and her power would be vital to surviving. When they found him here, armed, they would know. SeeD wasn't coming in two days time, they were coming now.

Quickly he strapped his halberd in place on his back—all of his gear save the communicators had been in the room, including the leather rig he used to carry multiple polearms—gripped his glaive in his hands, and pushed the door open. Even as it opened someone was passing by, and they jumped when they turned and saw him. The man, one with a blue armband, quickly reached for the sword at his side, but Nida was faster. He pulled at a sleep spell in his mind and unleashed it on the man. As soon as the man had collapsed at his feet, Nida moved to pull him into the room, and closed the door behind him. Leaving a body laying out in the open wasn't going to help him, not that it would remain hidden long even in the small storage room. The Zebalgan would search everywhere at Boyce's command, and Nida wouldn't have much time to act.

That didn't mean there wasn't a reason for stealth, though. His training was too deeply ingrained in his mind to let him abandon whatever edge might be possible, and he'd need whatever energy he could spare for the fights he knew came ahead. Luckily his wandering over the night and days before had given him some rough idea of the layout of this place, and Elijah's attempt to get them to the black room without being seen had taught him some of the areas that most Zebalgans wouldn't go. It wasn't much of an edge, but it was enough of one to get him into the hallway where the ebony doors stood with only one or two encounters, and each of those were easily dealt with by simple sleep spells. At last he stood before where Elijah had taken him the day before, but this time the doors were already open.

When he looked through the doors, the room was far darker than he'd remembered when he was with Elijah, but just as he remembered it from the dream. There was only a few flickering torches along the black marble walls to light the room, and the black marble seemed to drink in the light. He knew that further ahead, untouched by the light of the torches, would be the stairs he'd seen in his dreams, black marble shot with veins of brilliant white, stairs that Boyce would stand at the top of, clad in his blindingly white robes. Those stairs were his goal, well, Boyce's device beyond them in truth. If he didn't make it past the defenses, didn't shut down the system, then all his work here would be for nothing. More people would be hurt than was even remotely near necessary. Still, that didn't make what had to come next any more pleasant. He took a deep breath, wrapping his hand around the mithril harp, and tried to steel himself against the shock he knew would come when he stepped over the threshold.

Sure enough, the second he passed the doorway he felt an unnerving rush of fear followed by emptiness in his mind that worried him more than he remembered it having worried him in his dream. Siren was gone from his mind, she wasn't even in the harp, though it seemed to prickle with warmth wherever its metal pressed against his hand. But, just like in the dream, the wave of fear wasn't the only rush of energy that swept through the room as he strode forward. Light flooded into the room, forcing hm to raise his arm, shielding his eyes with his empty hand from the glare of the light. When he finally felt like he'd adjusted to the sudden brilliance, Nida lowered his arm and looked immediately towards the stairs. Sure enough they were visible now, as were the two people who stood upon them.

One was the person he'd expected ever since he'd seen the vision of white against black. Boyce stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at him with disappointment, his arms crossed over his chest, hands hidden in the folds of his long white sleeves. Yet he wasn't quite as Nida'd expected. For one thing, the man was armed. He could only just see the handle and part of the blade of a great battle axe slung across the man's back. Boyce was ready for a fight, and him at least Nida wasn't sure if he could beat. Especially considering who was standing with him.

Further down the stairs, clad in his favorite fighting clothes and with his blade already in hand was Elijah. Even seeing him made Nida want to cry. Elijah was glaring at him, his blue eyes cold in a way that Nida couldn't explain, didn't want to see. It was the worst thing that Boyce could put before him, the only person he'd hesitate in fighting. Chances were Boyce thought that it might make Nida hold back, that he might just surrender rather than harm someone so important to him. Except Boyce didn't know, Elijah didn't know, no one knew what Nida did. They couldn't see the pool of blood in their mind. Couldn't feel it cooling on his hands. Couldn't hear Elijah's heart beat fading, knowing that it was his fault. And yet, even knowing that, knowing that there was nothing he could do to avoid it, Nida still wanted to fall to his knees and surrender.

“So, it comes to this,” Boyce said, sounding quite disappointed. “You will not reconsider?”

Nida forced himself to walk forward, to steal what time he could to calm down. As he strode he called out to Siren in his mind, hoping she would hear him.

_I can't let you fall into their hands, Siren. Forgive me. I hope that you will fall into the hands of someone on our side, and tell them... Ask them to forgive me for whatever comes next._

There's no response, just a momentary surge of heat in the mithril, one so strong he could feel it through his shirt, before he turned his mind to casting Siren out with all of the force he could muster. Then the heat was gone, the metal as inert as it had been before it'd been given to him, and Nida came to a rest halfway across the room. His glaive came up as he slipped into a defensive stance, and he forced a smile to his face as he looked up at Boyce.

“Boyce Megill, by the authority given to me by the Garden Council and the nations of the world, I hereby place you under arrest. If you surrender now, you and your people will be unharmed.”

While he didn't expect the command to be followed, Nida hadn't expected the laughter his words prompted from the old man.

“Oh, my poor, deluded boy, do you really think that you are going to win? Even if you could defeat Elijah and myself, you would not leave this place. My people are already preparing for the assault. We were warned of your duplicity by one of our agents...”

“I don't think you were,” Nida countered. “When I left Garden Xu was told it would be five days, not three...”

Boyce narrowed his eyes at Xu's name, and after a moment he just waved it off. “No matter. She managed to contact us shortly after we discovered your disappearance this morning. And Elijah here was quite forthcoming with your intention to come here and shut down our defenses. Your plans are all for nothing.”

“I'll shut down that machine, and Squall will take you by force.”

“Squall? Don't make me laugh. Your illustrious leader will soon be dead. Xu delighted at that order.”

It was Nida's turn to glare. The only thing he could take comfort in was the fact that he knew Seifer was suspicious of Xu. If anyone could stop her attempt, it would be him. Squall would make it through this, and it was up to Nida to make sure Squall could do what was needed here.

“Anyway, we've already begun to withdraw our forces, so your Garden people will only have a token force to face, and they'll have to do it without their precious GFs.”

“Don't underestimate Garden, and don't underestimate SeeD.”

“Foolish boy, I helped train SeeDs. I know their limits.”

“Or maybe you only assume them,” Nida countered, still holding his defensive stance. “Come down here and I'll prove just what you don't know.”

“Now, why in the world would I ever do that? I'm not here to fight you, only to watch the fight.”

“Only cowards don't fight their own battles.”

“Only fools misuse resources.”

“Is that all you see people as? Resources? Elijah's practically your own son, and you only see him as a tool? What a pitiful man you are. Don't you get it? If he wins, you lose the heir. If I win you lose the heir. What's the point?”

“Boy, don't you see? You are of the Zebalgan blood. Maybe your blood as a child of Vascaroon protects you to some degree from my power, but I doubt that protection will do much if you're weak from a fight. My hold is always stronger over those who've been weakened.”

“So if you can't have my service my by own free will, you'll force it upon me?”

“Of course. Elijah.” With that Boyce made a small gesture, and Elijah almost seemed to sense it, because with his back turned he definitely couldn't see it. At once Elijah started to walk forward, making a few tentative swipes at the air with his sword.

“Don't kill him,” Boyce warned, and Elijah nodded before stopping a few paces before Nida, already slipping into a defensive stance.

“Elijah...” Nida sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“Not as much as you will be,” Elijah promised, before lunging forward, Rupio raised and ready.

It's easy, almost too easy, to bring his glaive in to defend, but that's just the way that Elijah fights. Starts with testing blows, teasing attacks and wide open guards and moves far too slow to really be considered him at his best. It's how their fights always start, always have started, Nida even wanted to say it was how they would always start, but it was foolish to think that. Still, he responded in kind, his own first blows and defenses testing, almost courting and encouraging. He didn't do it because it was how they always fought. Nida did it because he needed to know just how far Elijah was going to go here. What kind of control did he have over himself?

The answer came sooner than he'd hoped for. He left his guard open during one block, and Elijah finally took the chance presented, his sword lashing out and scraping across Nida's chest. It wasn't as glancing of a blow as he would have hoped, though, as he could almost feel the blade scratching across his ribs. As quickly as he could, Nida stumbled back a few steps, more than ready to be done with the testing phase of the fight. Now what he wanted was space. Polearms were meant for distance, and for a while at least he knew he could wear down Elijah if he kept his distance.

Except Elijah wasn't about to allow that distance. Even as Nida swept at opponent's legs with the glaive, Elijah threw himself into a somersault, carrying him easily inside of Nida's guard. As he landed he slashed out with an overhanded blow, causing Nida to dart back a step, dropping his glaive in the process so he could bring his arms up to protect his face. Luckily he managed to back up before Rupio could cut into his arm. Unfortunately he was unarmed now, and in the fact of an opponent well armed. All he could do was dance further and further back as Elijah swung at him again and again, though now he was only striking out with the flat of his blade. Still, each blow rained down on him made Nida's arms ache, and if he didn't act soon...

They'd already been carried most of the way back to the doors by the fight, and Nida's mind started racing for options. Normally it wasn't the kind of thing one wanted to do in a fight, but this time it served him well, as when Elijah moved in to kick at him, Nida managed to trip over his own feet, falling to the floor. Before Elijah could regain his own balance from the kick, Nida managed to tangle his legs in with Elijah's, tripping the red-head up and forcing him to fall as well. The second his feet were free, Nida rolled away, and when he was far enough he started to push himself to his feet, loosing his halberd and swinging it into a defensive position even as Elijah got up and jabbed at him with his sword.

“Luck won't be enough to win this fight,” Elijah called, an amused edge in his voice. “Come on, Nida, you're better than this. Don't you get that your life hangs in the balance?”

No, he got that. Got that better than they thought he did. Except this was a different kind of fight for his life. No matter what happened he'd still be breathing after this fight. They wouldn't let him die. But they'd strip him of any illusion of control over his own life. He'd be turned into something no less pathetic than Elijah was now. A man with no will of his own, subject to the whims of a crazed man. How did you learn to fight for that?

“I don't want to kill you,” Nida responded, shaking his head as he raised his halberd to block another blow.

“If Seifer and Squall can't, what makes you think you can?” Elijah laughed.

“The fact that you can't kill me.”

That made Elijah hesitate for just a moment, a flash of sorrow going through his eyes, but Nida wasn't about to waste the chance. He twirled his halberd in his hands, and struck at Elijah's head with the base of the shaft. Rupio only barely came up in time to redirect the blow, and even though it did, it left Elijah open enough for a kick to the ribs. Elijah was thrown back a few steps, doubled over in pain, and Nida immediately lashed out once more, bringing the base of his weapon down across Elijah's back. With the swordsman on the floor, Nida turned his attention to Boyce. While he was sure he wouldn't get there in time, wouldn't have the chance to take Boyce down, that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. He had to believe, had to deny that he was going to be forced to kill Elijah. Could he really be sure that there was no changing a clear dream? Maybe, just maybe...

He'd only gone a few paces before he heard laughter from Boyce, and Nida skidded to a stop. Part of his mind screamed that he needed to keep going, that he should wipe that look off of Boyce's face, but the better part of him forced him to turn around. As afraid as he was to see what would make Boyce so amused, he had to know. What he found, though, made his blood run cold.

Elijah had made his way back to his knees, but he hadn't moved beyond that other than to take Rupio back up. It was where Rupio was that made Nida worry. Something, Boyce, had compelled Elijah to press his blade against his throat, hard enough that Nida could see a drop of blood welling up at the contact.

“How could you do this?” Nida gasped out. “You'd...”

“What does his life matter without the heir to guide us? Don't you understand, boy? His life is nothing if we cannot fulfill our destiny.”

“You are a waste of life,” Nida hissed.

“And you won't let him fall to serve your own purposes, will you?”

With a sigh Nida started back towards Elijah, his hand tightening on the shaft of his halberd. Boyce was wrong about that. What he wouldn't allow was Boyce killing Elijah. He couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen. With each step he moved faster, his grip more sure, his mind more made up. And once he was in range, Nida lifted his halberd high, and brought it screaming down towards Elijah's head.

As he thought, Boyce wasn't about to loose his tool like that. Elijah was on his feet faster than should have been possible, and Rupio raised above his head to divert the attack. Sparks flew from where the weapons met, the metal screaming out from the force of the blow. It was enough that Nida actually stumbled back a step when Elijah twisted away from their impact. But staggering back meant a momentary lapse in Nida's defenses, and Elijah quickly took advantage of that, thrusting Rupio forward. Nida could do nothing but scream as the red blade pierced into his right shoulder. Nida's grip on the halberd immediately began to weaken as he whimpered, but he grit his teeth and forced his fingers to wrap all the more tightly around the wood. Already he knew he wasn't going to be able to get away from what he'd seen anymore. The pain was too much, and when he tried to pull away from the sword, he found he couldn't, the blade was buried too deep. There was only one thing he could do, one chance...

“Looks like I win the battle, little bird,” Elijah said, a sad smile gracing his face. “I wish it hadn't come to this.”

“No,” Nida agreed, “I wish it hadn't either.”

Despite the way it made his arm scream in pain, Nida thrust his halberd forward, driving the spear point tip into Elijah's chest. It wasn't a good blow, though, and he knew it. The sharp metal pierced low into Elijah's heart, not enough to stop it right away, but enough to guarantee Elijah's death.

“I'm sorry. Hyne, Elijah, I'm sorry.”

All the chill was gone from Elijah's eyes, but neither was there the warmth in them that Nida'd grown familiar with. “Do you really think Squall can stop him?”

“I know he can,” Nida whispered, letting the shaft of his weapon fall from his grip. His legs were getting too weak to hold him up, and already Elijah was starting to fall, dragging Nida with him because of his sword.

“Good,” Elijah responded, his voice barely a whisper. “Good. It's all I ask.”

Elijah was dead before they hit the floor, long before Nida pulled Rupio from his shoulder, and his body was cooling before Nida could take Elijah into his arms. And now it was all like the dreams. There was the taste of blood in the air. The feeling of hot blood seeping into his clothing as he bled and Elijah bled out. The body in his arms was cooling so fast, his warmth leeched away by the blood and the icy cold marble below them. When he looks around he can see the pool of blood flowing out from them, a deep red thanks to the black of the floor, rather than the brilliant crimson of Elijah's hair.

Somehow he can't believe how much blood there is. It's everywhere, staining the dark, navy blue of his uniform, covering the black of the stone, filling all of his vision as he cried. It didn't matter that he knew this was coming, he still couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. Wanted to be back in the days where they were in Garden, would sleep in while holding each other. Wanted to live in the time where they were still innocent. It felt like so long ago that there had been a time when there was only the blood of monsters on their hands and blades. Not the blood of people, of soldiers following orders, of people who got in the way, of friends, of lovers. A time before you might be forced to kill someone you once trusted with everything you were.

But they weren't innocent before. Hadn't been for a long time.

They could never be innocent again. Never.

He could see that now.

Worse, Nida knew, he was on the edge of a real panic here, holding the body so close, turning his eyes to glare at Boyce. On the edge of panic and caught up in that moment of clarity that came with it. But the clarity was the kind that was more likely to break him than the panic was.

_I can't do this,_ the clarity said, resounding in his head with more force, more certainty than anything Siren had ever told him.  _I can barely stand now, even if I wanted to, and I have to get through Boyce if I want to turn off the machine. How am I supposed to do that when I can barely lift my arms?_

And there's blood everywhere. Blood on his hands, his and Elijah's intermingled. There's blood on his favorite halberd from the killing blow to the person who had been his best friend, confidant, and lover. There was blood everywhere but on the grinning bastard in white, and there was nothing Nida could do about it.

_There was a moment, but it's gone. If I'd let him take Elijah down I could have..._

But could he? Could he really have let Boyce do that? Could he stand by and watch Elijah end his own life at Boyce's command? He didn't know anymore. Didn't know.

“Give up.”

Nida blinked away his tears and glared back up at Boyce.

“I can't do that.”

“I think you can,” Boyce said, and he lifted a hand, holding it out towards Nida.

The man is radiant, standing there, his pure white robe making seem to glow against the black marble stairs. White, the only unblemished color in the room, the only one seemingly unaffected by what had just passed. It's a better color, Nida thinks, than the red of the blood everywhere around him, or the black of the stone, or the navy blue of his ruined uniform, or the band of pale blue wrapped around his arm and stained by his own blood. Part of his mind says that there's an angle there, holding out his hand, offering him everything he'd never had before, and everything he'd never have a chance at again. Power, glory, recognition, and most of all, life. A tempting offer. More tempting than he could believe.

_Do it. He can save us. And all he wants in return is everything I am._

Carefully Nida lays Elijah's body aside before struggling to his feet. His weapons are left behind as he staggers across the room towards the vision of white and black so deep that it's almost hypnotizing. Except no matter how far he walks the blood is still there. In the air, in his mouth, on his hands. And the clarity is rapidly slipping out of his grip, dissolving into a flat out panic, a panic that he knew would make him foolish.

“Come, Heir, take my hand. You will guide us all to where we belong, will give us the thing we were promised. You shall be among our people once more, as you were always meant to be. And together we will find Hyne and take what is ours. We shall hold the power of a god, and everything we wish shall be ours.”

The words make so much sense, so much sense, _so much sense_. Hadn't he been living in ignorance all these years at Garden? How could he not have seen it before now? All he had to do was take the offered hand and his destiny would unfold before him. He was the bridge between mortal and immortal. All he had to do to span that gap was put his mind to it, open himself to the voice that was his dreams, a voice that had always been waiting for him to submit to the will of Hyne, to the call of his fate.

Ten feet. Five feet. Three feet. He's scaling the stairs, each step taking more energy than the last, but also bringing him closer to the waiting hand. If he makes it he will fulfill everything he was supposed to be. Boyce will turn off the machine and heal him. Boyce will protect him from those who wanted to abuse his power. Boyce would give him a way to become what he was born to be.

“Come, son of Vascaroon. Be our prophet, our guide. We will be your guardians, and wipe the world clean that you might serve us all with your infinite knowledge.”

Infinite knowledge, yes, he liked the sound of that. Already he was opening his mind to it and he could see a palace, somewhere, but one that was also a shrine and a grave at the same time. Within it was the power they wanted, needed. Mastery over life and death. He could bring Elijah back, and they could be together forever. He could bring back everyone that mattered to him. He could live forever with them in peace.

And then Boyce is recoiling, his hand moving away and he's hissing in annoyance. For a second Nida doesn't understand. He's ready, ready to be what he was meant to be. So why is Boyce pulling away? Doesn't he realize that Nida needed him? That he didn't have much time left without Boyce helping him?

Then he understands as Boyce is raising a fist, ready to knock him out, and Nida can't help but grin, maliciously. There's blood speckled on Boyce's face. He'd spit at the bastard. And the pressure in his mind to surrender was gone. It was like Elijah had said, a compulsion. Boyce had almost gained what he wanted because he'd been hurt, he'd been panicked. Too bad some part of Nida had still been thinking. Not that it would last long. He'd have one last moment of satisfaction before Boyce knocked him out and forced his will upon Nida while he was unconscious.

Except the blow doesn't come. Instead there's a loud bang, and Boyce stumbles back a step in shock. His eyes are huge, shocked, filled with wonder. He didn't know what was happening any more than Nida did. Except instead of turning to flee like Boyce did, Nida found himself turning back towards the entrance of the room, and what he found made him smile.

“Irvine,” he gasped out, a smile in place. “There's a machine here, it...”

“I know. I dreamt of it,” Irvine said, cutting him off. “And I'll deal with it in a minute. Right now there's something else to deal with.”

Nida starts down the steps towards the other SeeD, only to be halted by what was said next.

“I've come for my grandfather.”

There's a sharp inhalation from behind Nida, but he can't think much about it, not with how he's so busy staring at the sharp-shooter.

“Grandfa...”

“You're alive,” Boyce gasped out, and he's suddenly pushing past Nida. Except the push is enough to knock Nida off his balance. There's only a moment to laugh over the indignity of it before he'd falling, and darkness consumes his mind.


	28. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyne, I haven't had much time lately. Good thing this was never meant to be a full chapter. This intermission is meant to mirror the prologue, and for good reason. After this, we hit the next part of the story.
> 
> Sorry for the delay getting this out, I was busy with classes.

"Must you coddle him like that?"

 

The question earned her husband not only a feigned glare, but a soft chuckle. "You're no better with him. Besides, kindness now will teach him kindness later in his life."

 

"Oh come on, she's only, what, a year and a half old. I'd hardly think he was old enough to learn from this. But it is time for him to start learning that we aren't going to stay at his side all night while he sleeps."

 

"The lesson can wait another night," the woman insisted, her voice quiet as she shifted the bundle in her arms that was their first (and only) child. "I've got a few days before I'm expected back at work, so I want one more night to watch over him."

 

"Fine," the man says, clearly seeing the fondness in his wife's eyes. "Still, if you complain about being tired tomorrow morning, I'm just going to point out it's your own fault. It's your own choice."

 

"I'm well aware of that, dear. But it seems like just yesterday that we brought him home. Where has the time gone?"

 

Before her husband could respond, the woman's attention was drawn to the child in her arms. Something had awoken him, and he was starting to cry. She could barely hear her husband sigh behind the sound, but most of her attention was on rocking the child in her arms and cooing softly into his ears. With an apologetic look at her husband, the woman rose from her seat, gestured towards the nursery with her head, and started to bounce the child in her arms as she made for the room.

 

"I can handle this," her husband starts to say. "You look like you could use a break..."

 

"That's quite alright. I would love a cup of coffee though."

 

"Coming right up."

 

With that the woman was left on her own to stroll to the nursery, still cooing at the child. Once she made it to the room, she toed the door open, slid through the gap she was given, and closed the door behind her with her foot. The cooing turned to something that was half a hum, half a wordless little tune as she danced the crying child around the room until the tears were gone and he was laughing and smiling and quite happy. Then she moved and lowered the child into the crib, pulling a chair up behind her so she could sit by the bed.   
  
Her husband showed up for a moment, coffee in hand, then backed out when she thanked him, off to finish some little bit of work or other as she got the child to sleep. Left alone the woman turned her attention back to the child, cleared her throat, and started into the same bedtime story she'd been telling the child every night of his life that she could.

 

_Once upon a time our world was ruled by a great and gentle god named Hyne. But the world then was not what the world is today. It was barren, dead, devoid of anything but rock. So Hyne, seeing the lack before him, was unhappy. With his great power he formed the sky and the seas. He made plants and animals, and day and night, and life and death, and beauty. The world he made was pure and wild, and he was growing weary. No longer did he have the strength to continue to create, to gift all of the things he had made with wisdom and magic and emotions. So great was his weariness that he knew he must rest. But he could not leave his world without some to tend to it. And so he made his greatest creation: a living, thinking, caring creature called a human._

 

_But the creation was too draining after everything else. Hyne told his people that he was leaving the world he had made in their hands, and would return once he had rested. So he gave to them the world and retreated to a place meant only for him so that he could sleep. And so he did, for many hundreds of years, and in that time the humans grew smarter, stronger, and more widespread._

 

_When Hyne woke from his nap and went to go among his world, he was met quickly by the people he had left in the world. But they did not know him, and they feared him as they had come to fear other humans. They feared each other because their skin was different, or they spoke with different voices, or they did not look the same. And they feared Hyne, and did not know him, and they attacked him. And Hyne did not know what to do._

 

_The people started to make hurtful stories, that he was a monster which killed their children, that he kidnapped them and hurt them. And so they turned upon their creator, and strove to hurt him. They went to war, a thing Hyne had never imagined, against their God. Hyne, though, would not turn a hand against his people, no matter what he did. But the other creatures of the world, the plants and animals, saw how humans had turned against their creator, and turned against the people. The people called it magic, blamed Hyne, and fought all the harder._

 

_So great was the sorrow Hyne felt when he saw the beautiful creatures he created turning against his people, and in his sorry he tried to make peace with the people. They demanded of him that they have half of his great magical power, something he had always meant the people to have, and he gifted it to the world. Yet the people did not understand that the magic had always been meant for the world, and when he let it free it dispersed, spreading into the world. But it wasn't enough for most humans to reach for that magic of their own accord, and so the people accused him of cheating them._

 

_Disappointed in his children, Hyne left the world to them, withdrawing once more into the place he had prepared for himself. And after that the wars began. People thought there was some power left behind by the god, some half of his power, and they warred over it, claiming they had found the flesh of the god and within it was the secret to his power. The peoples fought each other now, until at last the Zebalgans came out on top. Their king sought for a wise man to tell him the secret of the body of Hyne, and so came Vascaroon._

 

_Vascaroon, unknown to the king, was the last of his kind, a priest of Hyne of a people that had been ravaged by the war. In a dream the god had come to him and given him visions of what would come to pass if the priest did not act as he was bid by the god. So he traveled the great distance to the king and spoke at the god bid him. He told the king that there was no power in the body for it was corrupt and could not be claimed by men. He also promised that one day the great magic of the god would become that of the people, though. The Zebalgans must search for the true body of the god, but it would only open to them when Vascaroon's son would come to the people._

 

_With that the priest left, returning to his own people. And he passed to them the story of his own people, so they would know the role they would one day fill._

 

When the story was done the woman rose and frowned down at her child. Why did the burden have to fall upon her child? 

 

"It is a cruel thing our ancestors ask of you, my dear, sweet Nida. A cruel thing indeed," she whispered, pulling away from the crib and heading for the door. Better to join her husband now before he wondered why she was gone so long.


	29. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, things have continued at last. I've finished classes (mostly), lined up job interviews, and enjoyed a brief vacation. But I'm back now and let's see what we can't do for this story, right?

The world comes back in escalating phases. First comes the kind of splitting headache that makes a man feel like the world is ending around him—Nida's seen the end of the world before so he had a good baseline to compare to. Next is the slowly growing sound level, and as it reaches a crescendo it only adds to the pain in his head, adding past the point where words are meaningless agony. Next—and this may be his own fault—light starts to seep in around the corners of his mind (or is it his eyes?) and by now the comparison of the world collapsing around him doesn't even begin to come close to describing the pure agony that he's in. All Nida can do is groan in pain—a sound which hurts on its own—and throw an arm over his eyes. Whatever had happened, was happening, he frankly didn't care anymore. Let Boyce kill him, let Irvine shoot him, let Hyne himself dance upon his body. Nida didn't care. He'd checked out, left the building, goodbye cruel world.

“Move!” the business-like, familiar, blessed voice of Kadowaki ordered someone, cutting through the otherwise meaningless rush of sounds. “Nida?”

“Everything hurts,” someone croaked as Nida opened his mouth to speak. Or maybe he said it. How was that possible? It sounded nothing like him. Yet when he moved his tongue in his mouth it felt heavy, his mouth parched, and if he really focused—which was painful—he could feel his throat sore from disuse. Just how long had he been out? Better yet, just where was he and how did he get here? And who else was here?

“I know it's going to hurt, but I need your arm, Nida. I'm going to hook you up to an IV with pain killers,” Kadowaki said, her voice as low as a whisper, and pleasantly cool in his head.

Still, there's a long moment where he was tempted to refuse. Obeying meant exposing his head to light and daggers of pain lancing into his skull with no care for his sanity. Yet the allure of painkillers was too much to pass up. Eyes scrunched tightly against the evil of light, Nida relinquished his arm to Kadowaki. There wasn't even any pain as the needle slid into the back of his hand, and it was only when he felt the weird sensation of the IV against his arm that he realized another was in his other.

“What...?” he started to ask, lifting his left hand a little.

Kadowaki, ever quick, was right there with the answer. “You've been unconscious for a while. It was necessary to give you fluids and nourishment intravenously. The painkillers were avoided...”

“Kadowaki...” Squall's voice warned, but the doctor seemed to ignore him.

“Because you've been out for days. You hit your head rather badly and there was concern when you didn't awaken that you had slipped into a coma.”

“Did...?”

“Yes, though Squall will deny it.”

“How long?” he asked, already feeling a slight easing of the pain in his system.

“A week,” a new voice, Irvine's, offered.

And that brought it all back so much better than anything else could have. The mission. Elijah, still in love with him and sorry. Elijah, dead and bloody in his arms. Boyce offering him something he couldn't quite refuse. Boyce awe struck at the presence of another. And Irvine, standing there like an impossible dream, with unexpected words on his lips. And then nothing but the void between one blink of an eye and another, and he was here—wherever that was.

“Irvine,” Nida gasped, struggling to push himself up into a sitting position.

Immediately there were two sets of hands at both of his shoulders, pushing him back against the bed—score one point for the infirmary as his location—and there's not much Nida could do but obey the implicit command. That and try to glare at whoever was responsible, but he was sure some of the effect was lost with his eyes closed. Still, it seemed to have an effect as he felt himself rising into a sitting position as the bed below him started to lift him up. At least someone was willing to work with him here.

“Looks like no one wants you sitting up under your own power,” Irvine drawled. “Can we all agree that this will work?”

“Yes,” Kadowaki agreed in a tone that brooked no argument. “Squall?”

There weren't any words, but it was likely Squall nodded in agreement because no one tried to relower his bed. Better yet, the hands against his shoulders had disappeared, and sounds were losing their painful edge. The painkillers were totally taking effect, and for that Nida was thankful. Enough so that he tried to crack open an eye, and found to his delight that the bit of light didn't hurt. Slowly he started to open his eyes, letting them adjust to the low light of the room.

“What do you last remember?”

“Squall, you are not having a debriefing in my infirmary!” Kadowaki snapped even as she started to resolve in his vision at his right side.

“That isn't my intention,” Squall informed her, his blurry mass of black on Nida's left side.

“If you two are going to fight, could you take it outside?”

There was silence at Irvine's question, yet before Nida could voice his own opinion the two seemed to melt away from his sides. Nida listened to their footsteps, Squall's hard in combat boots and Kadowaki's the whisper soft of canvas as they strode away. Soon there was the soft hiss of the door sliding open and closed, then a muffled sound that was likely one or the other starting into whatever fight had been brewing.

“They were worried,” Irvine said with a sigh. “We all were.”

At the sound of Irvine's voice Nida started searching for him, his rapidly focusing eyes soon finding the gunner perched on the edge of a chair on the left side of his bed. Irvine was leaning forward, his chin resting against steepled hands supported by arms braced against knees. One of Irvine's shotguns lay across his lap—apparently Nida needed protection, or Irvine did—and his trademark hat was nowhere in sight. His face was a study in concern: his brow furrowed, bags heavy under his eyes, his hair pulling loose from his normally well tended queue. It might have been out of respect for Nida's state that Squall and Kadowaki had left, but Irvine's state obviously hadn't hurt. He looked like he'd been roughly woken from a bad dream long ago, and hadn't slept a wink since.

“Irvine,” Nida croaked again, earning a sad smile from his student and friend.

“I'm sorry.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry, Nida. If I'd known what would happen, I never would have let this go on so long.” Something about what he'd said must have been funny or ironic or something, because Irvine gave a weary, half-hearted chuckle. “I ask you, what good is our curse if it can't tell you things like this?”

 _Our_ curse?

“Irvine, just what happened back there?”

“Shit, that's a hard question with a long answer. How about you start by answering me? What is the last thing you remember? And I'm not looking for a debrief here.”

Nida clawed through his memories, trying to figure out if there was anything he was missing before answering.

“Your grandfather pushing me down the steps.”

“Sorry about that. I should have anticipated the reaction. But the dreams aren't always clear on the hows or whys or even whats, and you know it. Please, I can see it in your eyes, but we'll never get through this is you ask even half the questions Squall and Seifer did.

“So let's just start with why I was there. The night before I showed up, I had the first future dream I've ever had involving you. And you'll understand what I mean when I say it was crystal clear. I saw myself sneaking through red sandstone tunnels. Suddenly I was in a black and white room, and I saw you on steps, Boyce with you, holding his hand out. I took a step forward, and when I did Diablos seemed to fade from my mind. I moved back a step and he was back. When I looked up Boyce was enraged, raising his axe, and I lifted my gun. Then... I woke up.

“Immediately I ran to find Squall, not knowing what to tell him, but knowing I had to do something. The clear dreams always come true. Always. They can't be changed like the shadow dreams. Whatever else, I was going to find you, faced with Boyce, and in danger. Turned out you weren't the only one. When I found Squall, and mind you this was about five in the morning, he was in his office with Seifer, bent over some maps and while they were talking, they were writing notes to each other.

“Bugged,” Nida mumbled, and Irvine nodded.

“Yeah, I'll get to that. Anyway they seemed surprised to see me, and completely baffled when I told them what had happened. Squall's face went stoney and cold like he does when he isn't quite sure what the data before him means. Seifer was half furious at me, started shouting about crazy idiots and their 'fucking dreams' and all that. At last they went real quiet and started writing furiously on their pads. Before I knew it I was being swept out of the office by two testy gunbladers, one promising me the debrief of my life in addition to reprimands for keeping vital information from my superior officer, the other promising to have my head if my stupidity got you killed.”

“Seifer...”

“Are you telling this story or am I?”

Nida started to raise his hands defensively, only to find he didn't have the strength. “Sorry. I just don't understand why.”

“There was something about working hard to keep your ass alive, and he could accept some foolish grand sacrifice, but not if it was meaningless. Anyway, as they rushed me out, they grabbed any cadet or student they saw and sent them to find the others. But I didn't understand why we were heading to the residential wing with two armed SeeDs from outside of Squall's office following us. When we reached a room, Squall gestured for the SeeDs to flank the door, Seifer drew his gunblade, and they had me stand aside as Squall punched in his override code. The door slid open and there was Xu, Elijah's knives in hand, hollering like a banshee.”

Here Irvine paused for a moment, obviously waiting for some amazed reaction from Nida. Too bad Nida was hardly surprised.

“What, you aren't cutting in here? Where's the shock and awe?”

“Seifer and I figured it out when Squall got hit by a 'stray' crossbow bolt during the attack. After that we wanted to try and keep things from her.”

“I really wish I'd known this.”

“It was a personal suspicion. And if we can't trust her, who could we trust?”

Irvine sighed, leaned back in his chair, and stroked the stock of the shotgun in his lap. “That attitude is going around a lot these days. Anyway, she went for Squall, who wasn't armed. The SeeDs didn't even know what was going on. Squall was expecting a peaceful resolution I guess, because Lionheart wasn't even in hand. Seifer, though, moved the second the door opened, and Xu didn't even get two feet before Hyperion was through her. Yet she still tried to cut anyone who came near with those poisoned blades until she was finally dead. And Squall just stood there, watching. When Seifer pulled his gunblade free, Squall ordered the SeeDs with us to dispose of the body. Then he locked down the room with a special code, mumbled something to Seifer about them being even, and started off like we weren't there. Seifer was left to grab up her lost GF before she was dragged away.

“Anyway, when we got to the conference room everyone was there and confused. Squall announced Xu's death, that the attack on the Zebalgans was being moved up and that Seifer and I would be sent in an hour early to extract you. It was like...”

“He knew he couldn't hold you back,” Nida supplied. “That's probably because of my trip to Winhill.”

“Seifer said the same thing. They were quick to accept that if I seriously felt my dream would happen, it would. They never even asked why I did until we got back after the fight.”

“What happened? Boyce...?”

“I couldn't kill him, Nida. He's all the family I have left beyond you.”

Nida stared at Irvine a minute, certain he'd had to have heard the other man wrong. And yet Irvine just sat there, staring at him, waiting for some reaction, some response.

“Excuse me?”

“The line of descent from Vascaroon never had many branches. Whether it's fate or chance, there are rarely more than two daughters born to the line in a generation. And those don't always have children. Ultimately one woman had two daughters by two different men. Those sisters were vastly different, and yet apparently similar in ways in life. One moved to Esthar where she met a man of the blood of Zebalga, wed him, and was lost to her sister's knowledge. The other moved to Trabia, met a man, wed him, and gave birth to a son, the first of the line. But her husband's foster father was the greatest threat to her child, and she forbade the man from seeing the child, and was able to teach her son much about his role in life, and what he was heir to.”

“You're the heir?” Nida asked.

“Yeah. And from everything my mother taught me, your own abilities stem from being of the bloodline. Everything I know points to you being my cousin.”

“But if Boyce is your grandfather that means...”

“He's spent the better part of my life thinking I was dead. My mom thought he suspected what she was after a while, so when our town was attacked by Adel's forces and my father killed, she took me and fled. Over the next year she taught me everything I know about the prophecies of our ancestors, and then delivered me to the Kramer's orphanage to protect me. I haven't seen her since, not in person, but I've seen her death in a dream. Ever since then I've lived with my secret, terrified that the Zebalgan boogie-man would come and get me. When I heard of Boyce's retirement I went to see it myself, but tried to stay out of sight. When the announcement video came out I knew what was up and...”

“You were afraid they'd discovered you.”

Irvine nodded, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. “I've had the dreams all my life, but I never spoke of them. I always avoided too much time with GFs to protect the memories of my mother and her lessons. I wrote everything in a book when Matron taught me how to write, and rewrote it when I was older. I'd lived my whole life with the secret, so careful, and suddenly I was found out. I didn't have a clue what was going on. The only thing I did know was that I couldn't say anything. Ever since I'd met Elijah I'd dreamt of watching him through the scope of a rifle, my finger hesitating on the trigger. I could never trust him. Then the night of his escape... He took  _you_ Nida, he didn't come for me.

“To be honest, I was kind of upset. My whole life I was special. I was the heir of ancient prophecy, meant to give the gift of the great magic Hyne always meant humans to have to the world. Then, through my dreams, I even became involved with reuniting my childhood friends, saving the world from a sorceress corrupted by her own gift, and earning a place of honor in the world. But when Elijah came to take you, none of that mattered because I wasn't special. It wasn't me they wanted but my teacher and friend. I tried to comfort myself in those first moment with the idea that he came for you because of your friendship, but in the end, when you told everyone what he said, I wasn't sure anymore. And all because of one thing I hadn't noticed until then.

“I've seen a lot of things in my dreams, Nida. Things I believed and wanted. Things I believed and hated. Things I couldn't believe and feared. I saw the war's approach, and my killing Matron. I saw Rinoa, her eyes golden and full of Ultimecia's hatred. I saw time compression, Ellone, so many things. Some things I could, and did, change. Others I had to stand back and accept. In my dreams I've seen others die and I've managed to prevent those. But in the whole of my dreams there were three things I'd never seen. The role I would play as the heir, the plotting of the Zebalgans, and you.

“Until a week ago, Nida, you've never been in the futures I'd seen. I hadn't realized it, but it was true. You'd always been a mystery to me, and that wasn't a problem until you were marked as the heir. I came to realize as you revealed your dreams that you couldn't be anyone but the child of the aunt I never knew, but I started to fear that maybe you were something else as well. Something dangerous. And I don't know why.”

“Neither do I,” Nida admitted. “The only thing I could begin to think of is that Boyce thinks my father was a Zebalgan.”

Irvine shrugged. “That agrees with what my mother said, but who knows if that is it or not. I just knew that when I saw the dream that things had changed. What I was dreaming was a pivotal moment in time, one I had to be at, and had to act in. Was fated to act in. And when I was there, in that moment, any guilt I felt at letting you go into their hands, at risking you, letting people thing you were the heir... it doubled when I saw Boyce about to strike you. You could die, for me. So I acted, acted as I always should have. I revealed myself. I wasn't expecting his reaction, though, and I definitely wasn't expecting your fall. You hit your head pretty badly on the stairs, and you went still. In my anger I shot at Boyce, nicked him with a bullet. He was shocked, angry, betrayed. I don't know what he would have done if Seifer hadn't shown up then. Seeing you knocked out, Elijah dead, and Boyce coming at me, he threw himself into a fight with Boyce like a mother Behemoth protecting her pups.

“I went for you, started to try to stabilize you, but my junctions weren't working. Suddenly there was the buzzing in my head you get when there's a GF nearby. I opened myself to it, and two presences raced into my mind. Siren and something called Salamander. The buzzing grew worse, frantic, and then it was gone. Some whispering voice was in my head then, being very polite and informing me that if I wanted to save the life of the eagle, I had to shut down this machine. By the time I did that and got back to you, Boyce had fled, and Seifer was pumping you full of carefully directed cure spells. You wouldn't wake up, though.

“In the end we grabbed your things that we could find, and beat a hasty retreat. That's pretty much all the important stuff. The assault was bad. None of the Zebalgans laid down their arms. Even children had to be subdued. A large number survived and escaped. They've been harrying the allied nations since. There's been little for SeeD to do but deploy small contingents of fighters to places we feel are at greater risk of attack.”

“Then the war's over?”

Irvine shook his head. “If my dreams are true, then things are far from over. And since it was a dream that told me to come down here today because you would awaken and need me, I'm still going to put faith in them.”

“I'm not sure about need, but I think it's been helpful. You've taught me a lot, but I do have one last question.”

“I'll try to answer the best I can. But you have to answer one for me as well.”

“Fair. If we're both sons of Vascaroon, then which of us it the heir?”

“Have you ever dreamt of the stone altar?”

“No.”

“Then believe me when I tell you that the burden's mine. Whenever I dream of it I know I'm before the core of Hyne's power.”

“But you said you'd never dreamt of the role you'd play as heir.”

“Never the role, but always the place. I don't know where it is, but I know I'll stand there someday. Now for my question. How did Elijah...?”

_Blood on his hands._

“You know how he died,” Nida hissed, almost surprised by his own vehemence, and the way his voice sounded as he spoke with his throat still dry and rasping. “You saw my weapon stained with blood. My body. I pierced his heart, to spare him a far worse fate.”

“Worse than death?”

“There's something about the Zebalgan blood. What their king commands they obey. How sick is that/ And so I had to kill him. For weeks I dreamed his death in the fog, and I couldn't change it, Irvine, because I didn't know it was him. I killed him, Irvine. Tell me this, how am I supposed to live with that?”

“Did you love him?” The question was almost surprising. Nida hadn't known anyone but Seifer knew. Still, why not answer now? Who did it hurt?

“I'll never know that now, will I?”

The words were cold, bitter, in a way Nida never would have thought possible, and they called back to mind the offers Boyce made him. The pledge that he could have Elijah back. All the thoughts, the temptations he'd almost given into, and who would know? Who would know he almost betrayed everything for the promise of a love he wasn't even sure he had.

“Nida...”

“Please, I need some time to think. Would you...”

“I need to get some sleep,” Irvine agreed, rising and stretching. “They'll send one of the others to watch over you.”

“I want to be alone.”

“There's been a few attempts on important people in Garden, including Squall. We caught those attempting, but we can't be sure we have them all or that they won't go after you next. It isn't widely known what I am yet, but you're still at risk. Someone will be around tonight and after to protect you, until you can handle yourself again. Don't forget, you were injured pretty badly when we found you. Kadowaki handled your shoulder well, but that doesn't mean you're going to be ready at the drop of a hat. But I do suggest you get on your feet soon. Something tells me we're going to need you far sooner than anyone would like.”

 

* * * * * *

 

Alone didn't last long in truth, but it did in effect. After a short visit from Kadowaki to deliver him a bland meal of mashed turnip—Nida hadn't even known there were turnips growing in fifty miles of Balamb Garden—Seifer entered the infirmary and hauled the seat by the side of the bed to the foot of it. Nida didn't even have a chance to great the other man, because Almasy immediately sat down, Hyperion across his lap, and went to sleep. Understandable considering it was nearly three in the morning and Nida's awakening had interrupted the already iffy sleep schedule at Garden to the point where the only reason Kadowaki and Squall had been there was because of Irvine. The problem was that Nida, he wasn't tired at all. Fallout from being unconscious a week, or maybe because of all the thoughts in his mind.

First and foremost in his head was Elijah. A nightmare he couldn't escape, only made worse by talking to Irvine. Everything he'd come to suspect about the dreams had been confirmed by Irvine, and it was horrible. If he'd somehow known, if he'd been able to read beyond the fog and haze, to realize it was Elijah... Maybe he could have saved him. But how? What could he have done differently? Could he have broken Boyce's control over Elijah? He had to think not. Two days he'd talked to the people, tried to make them long for peace, and yet they'd still fought the SeeDs, despite Nida promising that SeeD wouldn't attack those who surrendered. Boyce's power over his people was too complete, had almost been strong enough to claim Nida. How could they win in the face of that?

And yet he'd dreamt in fog and smoke. Somewhere there had been a choice, a way to save Elijah, and he hadn't taken it. A path had been offered to him, and he hadn't taken it. The question was where he'd taken the left turn instead of the right. And he was terrified he knew exactly where he had. If he'd taken Boyce's offer, Elijah would have lived. Would it have made any difference anyway? He was a son of Vascaroon, but was he the heir? If he wasn't, he wouldn't be the one to see how to unlock Hyne's power, and he wouldn't give them what they wanted. He could have worked with them and taken more time to work on turning the hearts and minds of the people against Boyce.

Or would it be that by working with the Zebalgans he would dream only of what was helpful to Boyce? Would turning himself over to Boyce have placed him fully under the man's control? Maybe he wouldn't have been able to prevent himself from helping the Zebalgans, in fighting the people he had known for years? What would he have been then but a puppet? How could he have helped anyone if he was a slave to Boyce's whims?

Nida was jerked out of his thoughts as he felt something strike him lightly in the chest. When he opened his eyes—which he'd closed as he thought—he was met by glimmers of silver on his chest, two pieces of bright metal reflecting a small lamp across the room. The closer he looked the better he could see the slight bluish cast to the metal that marked it as mithril, and the shape of one of the two objects was familiar. It was the twisted wire and beads of metal that formed the chain which housed Siren. With it was another charm on another chain, this one shaped vaguely like a lizard, but with the rough, licking edges of flame at the tail and head. Hesitantly he reached for the pair of charms, and as he touched them a familiar warmth flowed into his hand, eager and searching. Within seconds the music of Siren's voice echoed through his head.

_My dove!_ Siren exclaimed, eager and reaching into all parts of his mind. Before Nida could even compose a thought in reply, the GF had settled into her usual place in his mind and refused to be dislodged. 

_Never are you to do such a reckless thing again!_ She reprimanded, her voice in his mind wavering.  _I thought you would die! You nearly did. Did my oath to protect you mean nothing? Had it not occurred to you that I might be able to dull the edge of that black hearted vulture's words in your mind?_

 _Siren,_ Nida responded, his thought mingled with joy and sorrow.  _I'm sorry._

_Sorry? How does that make it better? Things could have been different._

 _No_ , a new voice said, a higher, crackling kind of voice that made Nida think of sparks in a fire.  _I am sorry to correct you, singer, but the eagle is correct in one thing. Your presence would have granted him nothing, and your casting from him may have won his story through had he died._

Nida lay there a moment, shocked by the new voice. He wasn't equipped with any other GFs, and from what Veringas said, it was those you were bonded best to you that would speak the easiest. Yet this didn't seem to be the voice of his second strongest bond, Pandemonium. 

_No, I am not the wind bag either_ , the voice chuckled.  _Never have you known me, but I have anticipated your arrival by decades. I am known as Salamander, and you are the eagle. Holder of the heart of the one I have searched all these years._

 _Elijah..._ Nida realized with a start.  _Then you are the one he..._

_Yes. It pained me, as it does all our kind, to be used to harm one of the blood. But long had it been since I came into the hands of the clan, and when I saw you last I had not been truly awakened._

_I don't..._

_Nor did I expect you to understand, child. Some parts of the old lore are passed but not understood. Such is the burden that must be faced. I and other elder born would happily school you and the coyote, but that is for another time. That is not the purpose of the moment. The wolf brought us to you, against the lion's wishes, for a reason. His bond with the fiery one grants him a perception not unlike what the songstress gives you, but one sensitive to other things._

_Coyote? Wolf? Lion? Lore? I would really appreciate it if you either started to explain or left me and Siren in peace._

_I forgot humans are not bestowed with patience like our kind can manage. Forgive me this. It is long since I last awoke. I have been brought here to give you a gift, eagle. One I fear you sorely need._

_And what gift is that?_

_Memory._

With the word came the fact. As Nida lay there, clutching the mithril charms, his mind seemed to run through his memories of Elijah on its own accord. Yet they were different, felt strange and wrong in his mind. Nor did it take long to figure out why. Seeing your own memories through the eyes of another was unnerving. Yet the more he watched, the more comfortable he was, bathed in the moments and the feelings that had belonged to Elijah. 

Salamander lingered, perhaps too long, on the final days of Elijah's life. One the joy of seeing Nida, the relief of admitting Boyce's control over him, and the fear and sorrow the night before his death. Nida had to watch as Boyce commanded Elijah not to see Nida that night, felt the heartbreak the next day as he drew his sword against Nida, and the relief as he felt the blade of Nida's weapon bite into his chest.

When it was over, Nida wept quietly to himself. As he did he felt a warm weight settle against his side, comforting and soothing to feel. Through the tears he could just barely make out the shape of Salamander pressed against his side. The GF was half transparent, but his form left an impression on the sheets.

He didn't quite know what was happening, and Nida didn't quite care.

 

* * * * * *

 

“Did it help?”

Nida was jerked into wakefulness at Seifer's question, and for a long moment he wasn't sure where he was, much less what Seifer meant. Then he clenched his hand and felt the corners of Salamander's and Siren's charms prick his fingers and he knew.

“How did you know?”

The question earned him the rolling of eyes they gave each other when they wanted to refer to the GFs when others were around.

“So, did it help?”

“Yeah,” Nida said, unwrapping his fingers from the charms. “I hope you won't get in trouble for this.”

Seifer shrugged and without asking permission sat on the edge of Nida's bed.

“Squall can do what he likes but we both know he can't afford to reprimand me for that GF being out of Veringas's hands for a night. Ifrit thought it would do you good.”

“Salamander told me. You know, it's still not easy to admit they talk to me.”

That earned him a smirk. “Selphie gets jealous when I zone out from Ifrit. Zell thinks I'm more disrespectful than ever. Quistis doesn't seem to know what to think.”

_All things come in time,_ Siren purred, her voice low and sleepy. Who ever would have guessed a GF could be sleepy? 

“I hear you handled Xu,” Nida said, untangling Salamander's necklace from Siren's.

“She didn't give me much of a choice. But it's good to know I wasn't wrong.”

“I was worried when Elijah confirmed her status for me that she would try something.”

“Shortly after you left we discovered the first bug in Squall's office purely by accident. I was toying with a paper weight, tossing it around. Squall was getting annoyed, made a grab for it, and I dropped it. When I crawled under his desk to get it, Ifrit started snarling in my head. He drew my attention to the bug. Apparently the frequency of the things aren't something the awakened Guardians appreciate. Squall's had us sniffing them out all week. I'm sure they'll test you and Siren on them soon enough.”

“Goodie. I always wanted to grow up to be a police dog,” Nida grumbled as the chains came apart. Satisfied he grabbed Siren before she could dig further into his mind, thrust her into her necklace, and offered both to Seifer. When the gunblader held out his hand to accept it, Nida caught the sight of a now familiar twinkle of silver-blue metal at Seifer's wrist. Apparently Seifer held his own chain as a bracelet instead of a necklace. Before Nida had left Veringas had yet to complete a construction that pleased Ifrit. The final form now seemed to be a swirling fireball of wrapped mithril cord, and it looked more substantial than Siren's own charm. More interesting was the second charm beside it, one taking the form of what looked to Nida to be nothing more than a rune.

“Who you got there?”

Seifer looked confused a moment, then lifted his arm up and pulled back the sleeve of his uniform. His smile was full of pride as he displayed the charms.

“Apparently Bahamut has a thing for me. He's far quieter than Ifrit, barely says anything. Shiva's gotten settled in to her new arrangement, and I'm certain she speaks to Squall because the Ice Prince has gotten colder lately.”

“I go into a coma for a week and everything changes,” Nida sighed with mock affront.

“That will teach you.”

“Hey Seifer...”

“Yeah Nidulus?”

“Irvine said...”

“Whatever cowboy said is an exaggeration. I'm just not fond of the idea of someone killing something I've put effort into protecting.”

“Wow, really makes a guy feel appreciated.”

“I'm not here to make you feel good. Just to make sure you survive.”

“They just keep putting you on exciting mission, don't they?”

“Flyboy, you don't know by half.”


	30. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, what happened in this chapter wasn't something that I expected. Who would have thought?
> 
> Also, considering changing to bi-monthly updates to get this story done faster. Hope people like the idea. If I do this, then updates would be regularly on the 8th and 23rd of the month.

By afternoon Kadowaki had given Nida a (generally) clean bill of health and warned him not to stress his arm, and with Zell (quiet and oddly pensive) trailing him, Nida slowly made his way back to his room. As he passed through the corridors he was met with the sight of cadets and SeeDs who hadn't met his eyes since the night Elijah had escaped giving him approving nods and gestures of respect. Apparently now that he'd killed the reason they'd been hesitant, he had won his way back into their good graces. Or maybe it was that he'd proven himself by going among the enemy, alone, and still coming back while faced with whatever temptations. Maybe they respected him again because he wasn't some great figure of prophecy, but Irvine was—and since he was already a hero, who could hold it against him? None of the options really comforted him, how could they when they relied on him killing the man they knew as his best friend, him not being someone important, or him not falling in line with assumptions that he'd give in to temptation (and it didn't help that he almost had, but no one but Irvine and maybe the senior SeeDs knew that). 

When they reached the dorm wing, they're being followed by a throng, and another gathering had beat them there, almost blocking the way. Behind him Nida could hear Zell flexing his fingers in his gloves, obviously concerned that someone int eh group might try to hurt Nida. But no, that wasn't what he got. A thrown knife or enraged swordsman would have been far easier than what he was met with. Someone, somewhere in the crowd, started clapping, and the suggestion is quickly taken up like it was always done in this kind of crowd. The sound only grows louder, more empathic and accented by the occasional whoops and cheers. 

“I have to agree,” Nida heard Zell through the noise, his voice all but a whisper. “You've single handedly led to the death of three Zebalgan leaders, noticed the truth behind the Galbadian attack, and you avenged a lot of people by taking down Elijah.”

Nida was shaking, his arms quivering, his legs threatening to buckle as the cheers only increased. It easily could have been the weakness from the coma, could have been the strain from the wounds Kadowaki said would be with him a while longer and would keep him out of further fights, but it's neither. It's the cheering, these people who should have respected him for all the hard work he'd put into getting his rank, to being a damn good SeeD, for being a master pilot, only cared about his existence now. All these years, all this work, and they only now noticed him when they thought him a traitor, only respected him when he'd killed a man not acting under his own will, a man who'd loved him. The whole thing made him sick.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing here?” a voice boomed out, cutting through the ovation like steel through Joshua's neck—Elijah's heart. The crowd parted just as easily to let Seifer through, looking annoyed at the congregation. When no one—not even Zell—answered, Seifer plowed on as if it didn't matter. And maybe to him it didn't. 

“Because it sounds like I just saw a group of cadets and officers wasting time insulting a superior officer.”

“Insulting? Now see here, Seifer,” Zell growled, about to lay into Seifer—which he had every right to do since he was the ranking SeeD present. 

“No,” Seifer snapped, whirling on Zell now, leveling on him an icy glare that would have made Squall envy him. “You listen. Use your fucking heads. If Nida deserved credit for his actions, it should have been given when he did them. And before any of you call attention to what happened in Centra, think about what he did. He followed orders like anyone here should have. What's more, that 'avenging' you celebrate, it's not party kiddos. Doesn't matter if it was necessary or deserved. Who wants praise for killing their mentor? Their best friend?”

At that even the whispering that had underscored Seifer's speech failed as the gathered realized just what Seifer meant. 

“Get used to the idea, kiddies. This isn't the kind of war any of us were trained for. SeeDs look for threats from outside, not within. Trust is necessary in our line of work. Friendships make you stronger. But know how hard it has to be to kill your best friend. Now, all of you, get the fuck out of my sight.”

The crowd dispersed faster than should have been possible, as if Seifer and cut through an illusion. Yet the reprimanded silence lingered, and even Zell seemed cowed as Seifer stood before Nida, shaking his head.

“I never liked Elijah, but he was a damn good fighter. I respected his skill, and his confidence. Remember him like that, not like what this has made him. It's what he would have wanted.”

“You don't...”

“It's how I would want to be remembered,” Seifer said, before turning on h eel and striding off like nothing had just happened. 

“It was how he was remembered,” Zell mused, half laughing, half serious. 

Forcing his legs to stop shaking, Nida kept walking forward, refusing to admit to what had just happened. Soon he had navigated through all the corridors and left Zell at attention outside of his room, and knelt, nauseated, on the cool ceramic tiles of the bathroom floor. What had Garden come to that people were now cheering deaths? Hadn't they been taught better? Had they just become blood thirsty? The very idea sent chills down his back. After a few minutes to calm himself, Nida pushed himself to his feet, and turned to the sink.

The cold water was amazingly soothing when splashed on his face, something to counteract how hot he was running. His head felt feverish despite Kadowaki assuring him he was okay. Again he splashed his face with water and blindly fumbled for the towel that was always by the sink. Yet no matter how he fumbled, his hands didn't find the cloth. Then it hit him: it was Elijah who put the damn thing there after every laundry day. Except he'd never do that again would he? How could he when Nida had killed him?

At last he looked up, seeking a towel, and when he did, Nida met his own eyes in the mirror. For all that they were wet with unfallen tears, they looked empty, utterly devoid of care. It was almost as if he'd only gotten water in his eyes, not survived through the slaughtering of his lover. And what marks did he even have to show for it? A few cuts that were nearly invisible already from healing spells, and one that would be large and ugly on his shoulder. He almost wished there had been more visible cuts or bruises left on his face after the fight, maybe there had been but they were gone now, erased by time and directed applications of curative magics and potions. 

The mirror was cracked and broken before Nida even realized just how much he hated the face that was looking back at him. But it wasn't enough. The shattered face, refracted in hundreds of sections, wasn't enough. Angry, his eyes darted around until they landed on the cup he'd left by the sink for toothbrushes. That too went into the mirror, smeared with blood from his now cut fist, and he didn't care. Nor did he stay to survey the new damage. Instead Nida stormed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of light reflected off of the highly polished and sharpened edge of the head of the halberd that he'd used to kill Elijah. It sat there, perfect, untouched even by blood now, resting in Elijah's place. Everything stopped being choices and started being action.

He tore open the closet door and pulled free the first poleax he could get his hands on. The second he got both hands on it, he whirled, raising the weapon and bringing it down, full force, into the bed. The wood of the halberd's haft groaned for just a moment before giving way before the blade and force of the weapon, which didn't stop there but continued into the shitty mattress. Nor did Nida stop there. He pulled the halberd free and repeated the stroke twice, turning the shaft of the halbert and his mattress into a mess of cotton, splintered, cloth, and a stray halberd head. 

Next his eyes caught the alarm clock—it never managed to wake Elijah—on the dresser—filled with casual clothes Elijah had encouraged him to by and some that he'd helped Nida pick out. Again the weapon came down, breaking through the cheap particle board far easier than it had through the oaken halberd shaft. The lamp was the next casualty, mostly because it was in the way.

Again he whirled, this time upon the closet, and with one hand Nida snatched out every scrap of cloth that reminded him of Elijah, every polearm with any bit of word, every memory that he could lay his hands on, and all were scattered on the floor. 

Anger can be useful, don't get me wrong. It makes your blows stronger, it can make you faster, but your mind gets slower, sloppier, and you end up dead. 

Nida remembered Elijah saying that, not that long ago, but the problem was that he couldn't find it in himself to care as he laid into the assorted clothes and weapons on the faux tile floor, rendering it all useless in surprisingly few strokes. Somewhere beyond his room he could hear shouting, Zell probably freaking out over the clamor, and still he kept striking, sparing only his uniforms—he was too well trained to disrespect them like this—the metal training weapons, and the carved wooden bo. But soon they were all that was left, and Nida was stalking into the main room. 

There was nothing he wanted, nothing he cared about. Everything was touched by memory. Here was the couch they'd watched movies on. Here the table scuffed from Elijah's boots. There a stand of videos they'd collected together. There a picture of them on the day Nida had been made a SeeD. The poleax bit into them all indiscriminately, tearing fabric as if it were flesh, breaking wood like bones, and spilling blood of padding, smoke, memories. 

He heard the door open, knew it had to at some point, and still he didn't stop, bringing the head of the poleax into the couch once more. He even got in another two sings, cutting too easily through an armrest and a leg support before someone put a hand on his shoulder, shaking it gently. 

Had it been anyone other the Zell, they wouldn't have known what the tensing of the muscle's in Nida's arms meant. As it was, the martial artists threw himself out of the way before Nida could fully turn and raise the poleax. Even then he had to scramble as Nida redirected his motion to strike at him, getting away with little more than a ripped pant leg. Again the weapon came up, and the only thing that stopped it this time was the cold, unforgiving press of Hyperion at his throat. 

And even that barely did it. 

“Just do it,” Nida hissed, his voice low and meant only for Seifer's ears. 

“Don't think I won't. I may like you better than chicky, but I can't let you brain him. Not like there's much to hit there anyway.”

“Just do it,” Nida repeated, starting to lean forward, and he was almost amused to feel Seifer's arm wrap around his torso and hold him back. 

“Nida...”

“He didn't want to fight me, Seifer. Boyce made him. Was a voice offering him everything he ever wanted in his life, and making the cost sound reasonable. I killed him, and self-defense or not, it was in cold blood. I murdered him, and for what?”

“What the fuck is going on?” Zell was demanding now, storming back into range and violently ripping Nida's weapon from his hands. “Almasy, take him to the brig for...”

“Fuck you,” Seifer snarled. “Flyboy's not going a foot until I've got Kadowaki and Leonhart in here.”

“You're going to disobey a direct order?”

“The only reason our heads aren't split open right now is because I clearly have a better grip on this situation than you, Dincht. So save us your moaning and crying, and get the Doc and Commander here now.” 

Nida said nothing through the stare-down, just stood there and wondered what it would be like to lay his throat open on Hyperion. To watch at Elijah had to as his blood spilled forth. What would his last thoughts be? Some final prophecy? A vision of Irvine before some stone altar? Or a momentary memory of love like Elijah's had been? All he had to do was lean forward. Seifer kept his weapon razor sharp. Easier to cut, less pain dealt by the blows because of the clean cuts. The dark metal offered so much...

Then it was gone, cast aside as if Seifer could read his mind. Instead Seifer's other arm wrapped around his chest as well, holding him still in a mockery of an embrace. And a voice, Seifer's, whispered in his ear. 

“Siren would he rising such hell right now if you still had her. Shouldn't have taken her back.”

She would, not that Nida would have listened. 

“What happened here?” a new voice, Squall's, joined the fray of the room. For once it wasn't deadpan or concealing anything. The shock was plain there, the confusion, the disbelief. Apparently this—whatever this was—was what it took to break the ice off the lion.

“Hyne,” another voice whispered, and before Nida could place it as Kadowaki's he's in her arms, not Seifer's, much to Squall and Zell's obvious displeasure. “Nida? Nida, are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” he admitted, only because he hated the way she was all but shouting in his ear. 

“What happened here?” Squall demanded.

“Nomura went crazy. Everything's wrecked. He tried to kill me,” Zell shouted.

“If he was trying to kill you, he would have,” Seifer countered, oddly calm. “It wasn't you he wanted dead.”

“If you're so damn smart, then you tell me what the fuck happened,” Zell growled. 

“Like I said, you weren't the one he wanted dead.”

“Then who? Because this has definitely got psycho killer written all over it.”

“Himself,” Seifer responded, voice utterly smooth and patient.

The room was silent then, enough so that Nida was almost sure he could hear a pin or splinter drop. 

“Out,” Squall ordered. “Everyone but Seifer, Kadowaki, and Nomura.”

“Out?” Zell started to protest, but Squall cut him off with a hard look that Nida could see over Kadowaki's shoulder. 

“Out!”

When they're gone the door slide closed with its normally cheerful hiss. Made Nida wish he'd gone for it first. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Squall demanded, turning his glare on Nida. Not that it did anything with how cold Nida already felt inside. 

So many answers, and none of them right. In the end, Nida went with the simpliest.

“I killed Elijah.”

“I know that,” Squall snapped, annoyance clear in his voice. Two audible emotions in less than ten minutes. Must be a new record. 

“Knowing isn't understanding, Ice Princess,” Seifer pointed out. “Something isn't right about all of this, and I think you're about to get some answers.”

“I won't have you debriefing him like this,” Kadowaki cut in, though she didn't release Nida to turn and face Squall.

“And for once, Doctor, I must overrule your authority,” Squall sighed, resigned. There. Definitely a new record. “I think we aren't going to learn anything useful for your purposes without this. Lieutenant Nomura, report!”

The orders too deeply ingrained to be ignored. Nida's heels snap together as he goes into full attention despite Kadowaki's grip. “Sir?”

“What happened here?”

“I...” and yet no answer seemed to come.

“Fine, simpler question. What happened during your time with the Zebalgans?” 

The words come then, one after another after another until Nida had no more. He told them about his supposed Zebalgan blood, about how the people separated themselves by colors, about the surviving council and the hostility of the reds and blacks and blues, and about his attempts to talk the people around from Boyce. He spoke at length about what he'd learned about their beliefs about the heir, and how blindly everyone followed their king. Then, slowly, brokenly, he turned to everything he'd learned from Elijah. About the powers of the 'king' of the people when it came to command. About his place on the council, as the heir, and his decision not to tell Boyce anything when he thought he had found the heir. At first no one seemed to believe him when he said that, but the more Nida stressed the power of Boyce, the promise that he'd give them his reason to believe when it was appropriate, the more they took him at his word. 

He wove the whole tale, leaving out only the truth of his relationship with Elijah. So far as they ever needed to know, Nida was only Elijah's friend and mentee. Most of them happily had knowledge of just how strong those bonds could be. So when he told them how Elijah had helped plot against Boyce for the sake of their people, they started to believe. Seifer, he believed from the first. And then Nida turned to the dream, how it had been driving him since the fight with Elijah, how it had steadily grown more and more clear. How the night before the SeeD strike, Elijah had been called away to speak on Nida's behalf before the council, and how when Nida came to the place in his dreams he'd found them there waiting. 

Squall cut in for the first time when Nida mentioned the machine, and while Nida told him everything he knew, Squall was still unsatisfied. Then Nida was at the point where Boyce first offered him a choice, and everyone was silent as he told how Boyce ordered Elijah to deal with him. Cold and calm Nida told them about the fight, every single parry, thrust, dodged blow. It took everything he had to stay detached as he told of Boyce's control over Elijah, the threat to slit his throat, being forced to slay Elijah even though he'd clearly not wanted involved in the fight. Calm and collected he spoke of the offer, the temptation, the near refusal, and of Irvine's timely arrival. 

Nor did he stop there. He plowed on past his waking and what Irvine had told him, skipping directly to Seifer's turning over of Salamander. There his words were sparse, focusing mainly on the level of detail of the gift of memories, and admitting when prompted that very little of it remained to him when the GF had left him. The potential there was too important to ignore, and he was sure he'd soon be turned over to Veringas to explore the possibilities and connotations of the gift. The incident in the halls lie brushed over, even though he knew it was relevant, and while he offered no reasons for why he'd destroyed all he had of his room, he did let himself lay the blame at the foot of grieving over a friend. 

Squall took it all in in that way he always did, looking, listening for some clues. More than once he turned his gaze, thick with some hidden meaning Nida couldn't parse, on Seifer. Like as not he would be getting his own lecture later on misappropriation of Garden materials and respecting the chain of command. A chime from Nida's door likely saved them all an immediate dressing down. 

“Enter,” Squall barked, and immediately the door slid open, showing them a high level SeeD, maybe mid twenties, named Chen. 

“Sir,” Chen said, snapping into a sharp salute, “We've got a situation down at the main gate.”

“Zebalgans?” Seifer asked, jumping to his feet and obviously welcoming a distraction. 

“We don't think so, but nothing is certain these days. Two strange characters, a large black man and a small woman with white...”

The SeeD didn't even have a chance to finish the sentence before Seifer was pushing past him, bound for the main gate and the pair that were undoubtedly there for him. The duo that completed Seifer's trio before everything had changed. It was an unexpected turn of events to say the very least. After not finding the pair with Seifer and their lack of arrival when Seifer's presence in Garden became known, everyone thought (who cared to think of it) the pair had abandoned Seifer for good, or that Seifer had abandoned them. What their presence here and now meant was well beyond Nida's pay grade, so to speak. Or it was now that he wasn't the heir and would likely be suspended medical leave for a while. All Nida could do was stand there as Kadowaki fussed over him and Squall too pushed past the bewildered SeeD. Apparently Chen had never known Fujin or Raijin. At last the messenger also left, leaving Nida alone in his ruined room with the doctor and without the support of Siren. 

Wonderful. 

“Your relationship with Zale was far more complicated than you let on, wasn't it?”

Nevermind. This moment, this moment right here, was the worst in his life. 

“My personal relationships are my own business,” he snapped, knowing as he did that the outburst was all she needed to confirm her suspicions.

“This whole thing must have been—must be—hard on you. For all that this place raises mercs, it does not prepare them for the very real possibility of costs such as you have paid. All of what you've done here, it was because of Elijah, wasn't it?” 

Nida said nothing, not that it helped. She just assumed his silence as confirmation and continued on. 

“I'm sorry for all you've been put through, Nida, but keep this in mind. I highly doubt if Elijah was as reluctant to serve Boyce's interests as you say, then he would not have held you responsible for what happened.”

“Can a person forgive even their own death?”

“If what you said about Salamander is true, you might know far better than I.”

“Kadowaki...” 

“Yes?” 

“Does it get easier?”

“No. But it gets bearable.”

With that Kadowaki placed an arm around his shoulder and started to guide him from the room. 

“Where are we going?”

“You can't stay here. Beyond the memories, this is by no means habitable at the moment. You can come back later, when you're ready.”

“And if I'm never ready?”

“We'll deal with that when we get there.”

* * * * * *

Soon Kadowaki had him settled down in a different room, the least potentially disturbing to him: Xu's. Apparently the searching of it had been finished days before, and the room had been stripped down to nothing but new, bare furniture and nothing more. A call was put in to get new bed sheets and uniforms for him. The latter was canceled when Nida told he that he hadn't attacked the uniforms or a few of the weapons, and so the runner was sent to fetch those again. Then, with all of that sorted out he was left to his own devices. He ended up stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondering how he'd come back to the same place he'd been after Elijah had escaped. 

Now, like then, there was a knock on the door, and for a moment Nida entertained the idea of everything since his confinement after Elijah's escape had been a dream. That the knocking now was his SeeD guard coming to deliver a meal. That Elijah was still alive and all this was a dream. Except it couldn't be. His dreams that were clear like this were certain futures, and he couldn't handle the idea of going through it all again. 

Unbidden the door slid open, and when Nida sat up on the bed he was met by the sight of Seifer, in full uniform, carrying in a meal on a try. He groaned at the sight. He wasn't going to watch this happen all over again. He'd sooner die.

“Nidulus,” he called, striding into the front room and depositing the tray (blissfully full of bowls and plates for multiple people) on a table. “Get your ass out here.”

Even as Nida twisted around to get his feet on the floor, two more people entered the room, faces and forms both familiar and unwelcome. Raijin still towered over even Seifer, still wearing the old, iconic outfit. Behind him strode in the far smaller, and more fearful, form of Fujin. When Nida made for the front room, her head rapidly turned towards him, her red eye fixing him with a hard gaze. 

“Nomura!” Seifer barked, then looked up and saw Nida standing still in the doorway. His eyes flicked towards Fujin, and Nida watched as Seifer shook his head. “Down girl.”

“EXPLAIN!” Fujin demanded, her hands coming uncrossed from behind her back to slash through the air at Nida.

To be completely honest, Nida too could have used an explanation. With the arrival of Seifer's posse he hadn't expected to see the blond again. After all, it wasn't like they'd been on the best of terms before all of this. For all that Nida hadn't been too well known around Garden before everything, he too had been on the wrong side of the Disciplinary Committee's attention once or twice. It had started his first day in Balamb, when Nida had been assigned to share a room with Seifer. He'd been hostile, so scary that Nida had fled into the quad, hidden beneath a bush, and cried until Elijah had found him and taken Nida under his wing. Since then Nida had been under the full scrutiny of the disciplinary committee for 'infractions' three times, and none of it had been pleasant. To have them all here now, looking at him, only promised trouble.

“Yeah. What are we doing here, ya know?”

“We're having lunch numbskull,” Seifer responded, flopping down onto the couch the way he was prone to doing. 

“REASON!” Fujin demanded, not moving from her spot. 

“Come on, can't we just sit down and fucking eat?”

“NO.”

Seifer sighed and leaned back on the couch. “Fine, we'll make this simple. He's one of us now.”

“Uh, what do you mean by that? I mean, I'm kinda confused, ya know?”

“SILENCE!” Fujin hissed, kicking Raijin in the shin. 

“I'm only here because of him. He's alive a few times over because of me. He's competent, he's obedient enough, and he's honest. If either of you have a problem with it, speak.”

“SEED,” Fujin declared, the world almost a denunciation.

“Can't trust them, ya know?”

“You trusted then well enough when you sided with them against me in the Crystal Pillar.”

“WRONG!” she countered, then her voice dropped to something smooth and even immediately afterward. “We trusted Squall, not his friends, not SeeD. For you a rival is just as good as a friend. And since you weren't listening to your friends, since you were destroying yourself, we gave you over to Squall.”

“She's right, ya know? You weren't in your right mind about that.”

“And you're saying I'm not in my right mind now?” Seifer asked, frowning as he reached forward to grab one of the cooling cups of coffee off the tray.

“CORRECT.”

“That uniform...” Raijin started to say, only to be cut off by Nida (much to his own surprise). 

“Doesn't mean he's any different. Ask Squall, he'll tell you Seifer's as headstrong and reckless as ever. The only reasons Squall hasn't suspended him is because he's useful and we're low on the types that can handle any situation these days.”

“Nida,” Seifer said, and Nida just ignored him, striding fully into the front room.

“Just because he finally got what we all strived for all these years doesn't change who he is. Maybe he's a little different, but so what? Was your loyalty to him really so fickle? Because right now he needs that about as much as Squall or I do. The Zebalgans would love a chance to give his head to Boyce on a silver platter. What he needs are friends who will watch his back like you used to, not people to criticize him. So which are you going to be?”

There was silence for a while from the trio, all five of their eyes on him. At last Fujin turned towards Seifer, gave a curt nod, and moved briskly to join him on the couch. 

“Raijin?” Seifer asked, lifting an eyebrow in question. 

“I'm with Fujin, ya know?”

“As ever,” Seifer chuckled, gesturing toward a chair which the big man finally moved to sit in. 

“What...?” Nida asked, staring at the trio in confusion. “What's just happened here?”

“You're in,” Seifer said, handing Raijin a cup of juice and Fujin a coffee.

“In what?”

“The newly reformed Balamb Garden Disciplinary committee.”

“What? When did that happen?”

Seifer gestured to Raijin, who sat up a little straighter in his chair and cleared his voice. “It's like this. The DC is reforming, and you just got voted in as a member. Seifer put it to the vote, and me and Fuu, we're behind it, ya know?”

“Why wasn't I given a choice?”

“It's for your own good, Nomura,” Seifer said over his mug of coffee. “The DC looks after its own, always. Consider us each others' backup whenever we need it.”

“I never said I would...”

“When you stood up for Seifer, you proved your worth,” Fujin calmly answered, turning her bright crimson eye on Nida. “Now sit down and eat or I'll have to kick you.”

“You wouldn't...”

“Try her,” Seifer and Raijin mumbled together, the former chuckling and latter cringing. 

Even with that said Nida hesitated. Or he did so only as long as it took for Fuijin to bark 'sit' at him. Then he was down, butt to couch cushion, before he could even think about it.

“I'll have to go deal with Squall soon,” Seifer sighed, draining the last of his cup. “Deal with the fall out of your arrival, see to official reinstitution of the DC. With limitations in power, of course, but authority over even SeeDs in proper situations. For all the fun we had as upperclassmen, it's about time we did what we were meant to do.”

“NIDA?” Fujin asked, and he wasn't sure if she was asking him something or asking something about him.

Luckily Seifer had no such issues and sighed before answering. “We've been rotating guards on him. All upper level SeeDs. Problem is...”

“Takes them away from important tasks. Yeah, we get that. Tell Squall we'll handle it if he wants. Once they give us our weapons back, yanno?”

“Think you two can handle it?”

“Zell's had more than a few bruises to prove our skill,” Raijin said, beaming with pride. “Ain't no Class A, but we ain't no weaklings neither.”

Seifer nodded and pushed himself up from the couch, taking a moment to straighten out his coat. “I'm off then. Stick together when you can. Listen to Fujin when you can't. Make sure Nomura eats, and if he needs anything, Raijin's playing goffer. Got it?”

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

“Got it, ya know?”

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“Not in the slightest, Nomura. Better listen now and get on Fuu's good side then have Squall order the same after you've pissed her off.”

With that said Seifer strode from the room, leaving Nida behind with the posse, still wondering just what the hell was going on.


	31. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're getting into a part of the story here where a new formatting snaffu comes up. You'll understand it when you see it, but please keep the following things in mind: 1) singular italicized words are for emphasis; 2) italicized sentences and lines are for either mental conversations with GFs, or literally Nida talking to himself; 3) italicized paragraphs tend to be various levels of dreams, and any non-italicized lines within the italicized walls tend to be GFs mentally conversing with Nida; 5) bold italicized text is the new formatting distinction. You will understand it when we come to it.

There were two things that were capable of calming Nida down no matter the circumstances. The world could be ending around him and he'd be alright with it if he was caught flying or doing some mechanic work on a flier. Right now the latter was one of the few things allowed to him in Balamb Garden—Kadowaki was blocking Squall from putting him on active duty, and he desperately needed to be away from other people—and so Nida was currently arms deep in the engine of one of the personal fliers that had been in need of some work for months. Between his teaching, training, examination and the start of the war, he hadn't been able to keep up with the maintenance that he was supposed to help out with. Didn't help that this flier hadn't really had a problem with being grounded before because the others were all up and running, but with war and one of the spares blown in Nida's arrival to the Zebalgans, the war efforts needed this running. And soon. So, when he'd asked Squall what he could do, Nida had been sent to the hanger, given his tools, and told to take over maintenance. Once he had the fliers working he was to report to the core of Garden to look over the systems there as well. 

“Hand me the wrench,” Nida called, reaching back behind him with his uninjured arm—he was really getting tired of the pain in his right shoulder, but leave it to Elijah to find a way to keep himself in Nida's mind no matter how much he wanted to forget—to wait for the tool in question. 

“I'm not an assistant, ya know?” Raijin mumbled in complaint, even as the tool slapped into place on Nida's palm. 

“Not what Seifer said,” Nida countered as he pulled the thing around and twisted it into position in the engine so he could get out the drive shaft and turbine, to see if the problem was there. “And while you're at it, I'll need an engine hoist.” 

“Ain't even right,” Raijin grumbled as he stomped away, leaving Nida alone with the engine. Really, he was pretty certain that the problem was with the wiring, not the engine, but the Garden mechanic said he was supposed to check this first, and Nida wasn't in the mood to argue with him. The man was more bull-headed than Squall and Seifer combined. 

With a grunt he tried to throw his weight into the wrench to get it to loosen the bolt he needed, and was met with more resistance than he could handle. Cursing he reached mentally into Siren's charm—thank Hyne Squall had finally returned Siren to him—and junctioned her. A bit of shuffling of the spells in his mind and a quiet command to the GF and he had all the force of his stocked aura spells behind his strength. He hated having to rely on spells to augment his physical capabilities. Sure, it was useful in a fight, ideal for a mercenary, but it felt wrong to use in daily tasks. What was the point of magically strengthening yourself if you didn't build up your own muscles? The problem was for all that he'd trained his body over the years, his left arm didn't have the stable strength of his right, and without being able to add the right arm's strength to the left... He was useless really until his arm healed fully. 

“NOMURA!” Fujin's voice snapped out across the hanger, her normal shout reinforced by the echoes of the large room. Nida almost winced at the sound. Eventually he'd have to see if he couldn't convince her to use her normal voice instead of her shouting. It was nicer on his ears, and her voice was really quite pleasant. 

“Here!” he shouted back, leaving the wrench where it was and pulling himself out of the engine. When she got here he'd ask her to loosen the bolts. For all that she looked fragile, Nida had quickly learned there was a real strength in the woman. She was like a heavy spring that was constantly compressed. When she let herself go she was unbelievably quick, and astoundingly strong. Plus she didn't complain half so much as Raijin did. 

He barely had a chance to clean the oil off of his hands before Fujin arrived at his side, frowning severely at him. Of the three other members of the Disciplinary Committee, Fujin was the one he understood the least. Raijin was easy enough to interpret, everything he said he meant, and everything he looked like he felt, he felt. He was rather direct, if a bit reluctant, and for all that he sometimes acted annoyed at watching out for Nida, he obviously did it as much for Nida's sake as for his loyalty to Seifer. In the last three days Nida had come to feel like he could understand Raijin, to respect him even. His loyalty was unquestionably to his friends, and within the first hour that he'd spent in Nida's company, it was clear that he'd marked Nida as in that limited group.

Seifer was... Confusing in his own right, but relatively straightforward in his opinions about Nida. There was some misguided idea that he owed Nida something, that they had to stick together, and Nida had appreciated it. Since he'd come to work with Seifer it had been very clear to Nida that Seifer wasn't meant to be a follower, but a leader of men. No wonder he had never done well in the SeeD examinations. He knew what was right and wrong, knew how to handle emergency situations. He just wasn't the kind of man who could blindly follow superior officers who obviously had less of an idea of what was going on than he did. Seifer was about following the spirit of his orders, not the letter. Seifer was smart, thought on his feet, and would do what it took to get his job done. In Nida he'd found something that Nida couldn't quite understand, something worth defending, or maybe just calling a friend. Seifer too had that unswerving loyalty, even if it had been corrupted in the past, and to be on the receiving end of it was a wonder in and of itself.

But Fujin... Nida wasn't sure what to think of her. How did you explain a woman like her anyway? How had she made it to Garden? How had she fallen in with Seifer and Raijin? What kept her with them, what inspired her loyalty? The first day, when Seifer had brought his posse to Nida's room, she had looked at him thoughtfully, as if reserving her opinion for the moment. The next morning, though, when Nida had seen her, she had been different. Some kind of pity in her eyes, or was it frustration? Telling the difference with her was so much harder. Now that she stood there she seemed to be looking for something about him, her good eye darting around to find whatever it is that only she would know if she found. As he had the last several times she had done this, Nida just stood there, resisting the urge to cross his arms across his chest, and stared back at her. 

“Well?” he asked, frowning. “Made your decision yet?” 

In the space of a blink of her eye, the whole demeanor around Fujin changed. She went from contemplative to completely dismissive, rolling her good eye as if exasperated. Not that he'd done anything yet to earn it. One of these days he was going to figure out how to read and understand her the way Seifer and Raijin did—of course that assumed they still cared to spend any time around him after the war ended (and how weird was it that he was wishing they would let him stick around). 

“MAIL,” she declared, and as she spoke she pulled a hand from behind her back and flashed him a glimpse of a brown paper package. 

“And?” Nida asked, returning his attention to the engine. He'd been to Winhill far too recently for someone to want to send him something, unless they were going to yell at him for what happened to Andria and her guests... That wasn't the mail he wanted. 

“SEIFER.” 

“You know, unlike him I don't understand everything you shout at me,” Nida grumbled, giving in and crossing his arms. “What about Seifer and the mail?” 

She scowled in response, she always did when Nida asked her to speak normally, and at last seemed to give in. “Seifer was with Squall in his office. Saw the package. Took it, despite protests. Apparently there is the opinion that your mail needs reviewed.” 

“Wonderful,” Nida grumbled, shaking his head. “They're really getting to know how to make me feel comfortable here.” With that he reached for the package. Fujin, though, didn't seem so much like she agreed with Seifer's decision. 

For all that Fujin was fast, junctioned Nida was faster. And shuffling junctions was fast, as quick as a thought or two, more than enough to give Nida the time to slip the haste spells into position so his hand could dart out, grab the package, and jerk it from her grip. They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, her eye narrowed, his eyes filled with clear laughter. Another testing of their limits. They'd clashed against each other countless times over the last three days, and things were coming out just about evenly. What the point of it was, he didn't know, but it was a welcome change from the confusion that Fujin brought him. 

“THIEF.” 

“It's my mail.” 

“SO?” 

Nida rolled his eyes and moved to sit on the stool he had by the nearest work bench. “Would you mind loosening the bolt for me? My arm...” 

She didn't say anything, just went calmly to the flier, rolled up her sleeves, and turned her attention to the wrench. Unlike Raijin, she didn't shirk work when Nida asked for help. It had the distinct additional pleasure of letting him open his mail on his own. First, though, he turned his attention to the package, frowning hard at what he found. The hand writing on the address wasn't familiar, and the return address was his own cabin in Winhill, which was strange and unnerving to say the very least. Oh well, there was nothing to really tell him who had sent this or what it was until he opened it, so there was no reason to put it off any longer. He reached for one of the stray throwing knives he'd left on the table—Fujin was teaching him knife throwing in his off time, a way to protect himself that didn't need his right arm and insisted that he carry some with him at all times—and used it to cut off the package paper. Once the paper was removed he was left with a leather journal and a small piece of paper that read 'He wanted you to have this.' 

The handwriting on the note wasn't familiar, but when Nida opened the leather journal what he found there was, in its own way. It was clearly, far too clearly, the writing of a child, or near enough to one, but there were small details that made his heart ache. The way that the letter y always had a looping tail, even though the writing wasn't in cursive. The fact that whenever there was an o it was far too small compared to everything in the word. The way that each period was a stab in the paper, and each comma swooped large. 

_Elijah..._

Quickly he flipped through the next few pages of the journal, shocked by how rapidly the adolescent hand was replaced by the firm, matured writing he'd known best from Elijah. But what was this? He'd never seen it before. What had did the note mean in saying that 'he wanted you to have this?' He kept flipping until the pages were devoid of writing, crisp, cream and untouched by even the impressions that Elijah's writing left in pages. Quickly he turned back, looking for the last bit of writing, for some answer, for something to explain what was in his hands. And at last he found it there, in a scrawled hand that was shaky and somehow sad, and still wholly Elijah's handwriting. 

_**Dear Nida**_ , the journal read, and the way that the words almost echoed in his head in Elijah's voice made him freeze for a moment. But he couldn't just stop. Couldn't leave the questions unanswered when they, when Elijah, was so clearly reaching out for him. 

_**Dear Nida. Wow, I guess this could well be the last time I write those words. Hell, with what I've learned tonight, I have to pray that they will be. Because I can't bear the idea of what it will mean if I have a chance to write more. But I guess that's neither here or there, is it? Anyway, I suppose you've got questions. You always do. I love that about you, do you know that? You always have questions, always want to know more, always...**_

_**Looks like I can't even keep on topic for five minutes even when I'm writing. You'll have to tell Instructor Aki that he was right about that. He was right about a lot. I never did amount to anything, did I? If everything goes as it should, as it needs to for the sake of our people and all others, I'll never have a chance to amount to anything. Then again, if you're reading this, you already know that, right? I'm giving, gave I guess, Ascher strict instructions. If I don't survive the day, he's to make sure this gets into your hands. He'll see to it, regardless of Boyce. Boyce won't even want to deal with him after everything. Ascher was always loyal to me. No matter what my Uncle does to force Ascher to his will, it won't last long enough to be good for him. He'd always have a threat at his back for letting me... For making me...**_

_**Hyne, let's stop beating around the bush, yeah? I don't want to say it, but the simple truth of the matter is that I'm dead. And if the world is a good place, it will not have been by your hands. But we both know the truth of the world by now, right? It isn't a good place. It's cruel. Otherwise it wouldn't have let us meet, wouldn't have let me love you, wouldn't have made you the Heir, would have let me discover what you were AFTER Boyce stepped down. And that just isn't the way it's gone, has it?**_

_**But, back to the point, right? I'm dead. Probably by your hands. I'm sorry about that. It wasn't what I wanted. None of this was what I wanted. I already told you that, but I want to reinforce it. It's pretty much the reason I'm sending you this. I've had this journal since... Well, a long time, Nida. Maybe too long. But I will swear to you that every word in it is true. This journal is my life since we were younger, since that year where things... changed between us. It was the only one I could share my inner thoughts with, since Xu was always my Uncle's creature. Anyway, this is the only truth I can give you. If nothing else, maybe it will convince you of everything I said. And don't tell me you were already convinced. There was doubt in your eyes when I told you. But, knowing what I will walk into tomorrow, I have to try anyway. Try to make you understand that I wanted none of this. But it is what I was given, like it or not. Such is fate.**_

_**This is all I can give you, Nida, except for my apologies. When my Uncle commanded me to stay after the meeting tonight, I knew I'd never see you again when I was fully myself. Don't mourn me, love. I don't want that. If things happen the way I expect they will, you will be freeing me from something that is too much like a nightmare for my tastes. Hyne, let me be free of it. Because the alternative is that he will force the fight anyway, and if I win... I fear for you. The things he can do to your head when you're not conscious, they aren't right. I've learned that. I've read a lot about the powers of the line lately, and they are terrifying. As much as I want to see you bring Hyne's power to us, to give the world the legacy it deserves, the thing that Boyce controls is corrupt. Maybe it wasn't always so, but the touch of humanity has changed it. And I can't bear to see him turn that against you. I won't have you be a pawn to anyone's will. You deserve better. You deserve so much better.**_

_**Don't blame yourself for this, love. It will be how things had to happen for your sake. For everyone's sake. Never submit to Boyce and his will. But never forget the price of your freedom. It isn't lightly paid. Love... Live for me. Because after tomorrow I won't be able to live for either of us. Live free for me, something I could never do for myself, and never forget what you are. You are Zebalgan. You are the Heir. You are my love. And you are free.**_

_No,_ Nida hissed in his mind, as he finally came to the last words. _Not the heir, and not free. Never free._

How could Elijah not have known the burden of those words? How could he... 

Nida was jerked out of his thoughts as a tear splashed down on the page, soaking into the page and making the ink start to bleed. Quickly he grabbed the nearest thing not covered by oil—the corner of his shirt—and wiped the tear away. He couldn't let the words be ruined. Wouldn't. He could at least give Elijah that. Carefully he shut the journal, refusing to let another tear damage the precious words, and moved to dry his tears on his sleeve. But even as he did that was a square of cloth suddenly in his vision, a hand holding it carefully in place. His gaze followed the hand to the arm, the arm to the body, and then up the body and to the face of Fujin, who just stood there silently, impassively—no, not that, there was clearly pity in her eye—and said nothing. 

Gratefully Nida took the handkerchief and dried his eyes. Still she said nothing. At last he was almost composed and looked back to her, holding out the cloth. She just shook her head and gestured for him to keep it. 

“You'll need it,” she said, speaking quietly, but with her voice oddly flat, like she refused to let it give anything away. 

“Have you ever lost something important to you?” Nida asked, and almost regretted the question as he noticed the eye-patch. 

“Yes,” Fujin said, voice still flat, and she reached up, her fingers brushing the eye-patch. “It doesn't get easier. You wake up in the morning and realize the lack. You go to sleep at night and hope it will all be a dream. But, with time it becomes a part of you that you can't abandon. It makes you stronger if you let it. Maybe even stronger than they did.” 

With that Fujin turned on her heels and strode away, even as Raijin approached with the finally retrieved engine hoist. Had she just...? 

As Nida slid Elijah's journal into his pocket and threw away the note, he found himself wondering just who it was that Fujin had lost, and how. 

* * * * * *

_**I don't like this place. I don't care what Uncle Boyce says. This garden place isn't nice like home. It's so hot here. I miss the red stone halls. The beds are too soft. It's too open. The people here talk too loud. And I hate the secret. I want to go home. Soon, soon Uncle shall realize I belong with him and call me home. Soon.**_

It was hard for Nida not to agree with the sentiments of the child Elijah had been. He was starting to dislike Garden as well. Not because of the temperature, or because he had been particularly fond of the Zebalgan's refuge—who raised children in those cold halls—but that it was too open, that the people were too much, he had to agree there. And the secrets he kept, those were there too. But the noises he hated were the celebrations. The secret he kept his connection to the man he had killed. The regret. The fear of what was to come. Everyone else seemed to have thought they had struck a deciding blow. From what Seifer said, the senior level SeeDs didn't agree. Nida had to take him at his word, though, because it wasn't like he was being let into the meetings. Kadowaki was keeping him out because of 'medical' reasons, but he knew it was the psychological that had her fighting Squall's need for every able bodied fighter he could get his hands on. 

So instead he was here, stretched out on his couch, reading Elijah's journal. Raijin he'd sent to get lunch a while ago, and Fujin was off somewhere doing something that he couldn't even begin to guess at. And now all he could think of was how his first day in Garden had been so like Elijah's. Denial of his being there. Hating the place. But the difference was that Elijah had still had family. He must have felt like he was being cast out, where Nida felt alone because there was no family left for him. And, of course, Elijah when he'd first arrived hadn't had to deal with Seifer. 

What would it have been like if he hadn't met Elijah that first day. If he'd just put up with Seifer. Would Elijah still be alive now? Would the war have even happened? He could hope, but what was the point to it? It got him no where to think about it. With a sigh he returned his attention to the journal and the next entry. 

_**It's been a month now, and still Uncle does not send for me. What did I do to make him mad? Does this mean he doesn't want me any more? Am I no longer of the people? Does he not want me among them? Am I not his heir anymore?**_

Poor kid. Being dropped in the middle of Garden, given no explanations, completely separated from his kind. How had he gotten through it? Nida wasn't sure he could have done it without Elijah. Who had Elijah turned to? No, better not to know. Move on. Forget about it. There was nothing to be won by speculation this early. 

_**He sent a letter. Finally I know the truth. Boyce wishes me to wait, to observe, to learn. One day the people shall look to me, and I will have to know how to lead. Garden prepares me for that, and I will be able to give him valuable information. I shall serve as I was meant to.**_

_**But the beds are still too soft here.**_

“What do you got there?” 

Nida snapped the journal closed, his eyes darting up to glare at Seifer for the intrusion. The look only earned him an amused chuckle from the blond, who was carrying the lunch tray that Nida had send Raijin for. Well, that explained some things. Raijin was missing because he'd run into Seifer. Really, he was getting annoyed with the lack of control over the three, the way they felt they needed to protect them. It wasn't like he wasn't capable of taking care of himself. Really, one rage where that left his room pretty much destroyed and him begging Seifer to... Okay, so maybe he did need babysitting. Fuck. 

“Nothing,” Nida mumbled, frowning at Seifer. “Why didn't you knock?” 

“I did. You didn't answer. I came in anyway,” he responded, smirking. “Squall gave me your door code.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Yeah, I have to agree sometimes. But he's the boss.” 

“Didn't you used to hate him?” 

“Still do. But hate isn't quite all there is. Respect too, I guess. He's a cold asshole, but he's good at what he does,” Seifer pointed out, putting the lunch tray on the table by Nida, and pulling a chair over to join him. “So what was it you were reading? The package I got for you?” 

To answer or not to answer, that was the question. The journal could invariably be valuable to Garden's efforts if it said what Elijah had claimed. But it would let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. Once that might not have been a great disaster. Sure, he would have said that it wasn't anyone else's business, but he wasn't ashamed, wasn't afraid of what people would do. Garden wasn't known for hostility for towards that kind of relationship, and Nida was pretty sure he could have handled most of the people who might have considered giving him grief. Now, though, it was more the who than the what that he was afraid of getting out. 

“Yes,” he admitted at last. After all, Seifer hadn't revealed him yet, had trusted him to figure out what needed to be figured out, and share what he found with Squall. Would he really try to take the journal and give it to Squall? “It's Elijah's journal.” 

“Good read?” he asked, stealing a french fry off of the tray. “Got anything useful?” 

“I don't know yet. I haven't really read far. But...” 

“You're worried it's got stuff we might want to use,” Seifer said, shaking his head. “Yeah, that was my concern when I saw the thing on Squall's desk. One of the first things to go once you get into a war. Privacy. Figured after everything, you'd earned it.” 

“Thanks.” 

“But you sure as hell better share anything that's important to know. Or I swear to Hyne I'll take that thing from you so fast...” 

“I haven't kept anything important from anyone yet,” Nida growled, even as Seifer reached for another fry. This time Nida pulled the tray away from Seifer and glared. “It's my lunch you know.” 

“Yeah,” Seifer agreed, smiling wide in that way he did. “Fujin said it'd get you to eat.” 

“And you listened because she's figured so much out about me in three days.” 

“I listened because you're a lot like her.” 

Nida froze, mustard bottle poised over the hamburger, and just stared. Where had that come from? He didn't have much in common with her at all. The differences were... They just were. 

“Whatever,” he grumbled, returning his attention to the mustard. 

“Hey, just because you don't know doesn't mean you can pull a Leonhart on me. You're both... Shit, do we even have to do this?” 

“If you want me to believe you, then yes.” 

Burger ready to go, Nida took the plate with it and the fries and leaned back on his couch, making sure to push the journal aside. He'd have to remember to put it away later. Didn't want it getting lost in the cracks of a couch that wasn't actually his. Soon enough Kadowaki would back down and let him return to his own rooms, to clean and rebuild with what he'd left behind. To start over. Not that he wanted to, but he did need to. Needed to wipe the place clean of Elijah, so that he could move on. 

Seifer said nothing for a while, leaving Nida to eat in peace. He was halfway done with the meal when the silence was really starting to bother him. Normally it wasn't Seifer that gave him the silent treatment. No, that was a privilege reserved for Squall. In fact, to have Seifer being so quiet was like having Zell or Selphie sit still for ten minutes. It just wasn't right. 

“Are you okay?” Nida found himself asking around a mouthful of fries. “You seem kind of out of it.” 

“Do you know how Fujin lost her eye?” 

He was left staring at Seifer, utterly caught up with what struck him as a non sequitur. Did this have something to do with Seifer? Or was this going back to the comparison of Fujin to Nida? Now that he thought of it, she had implied there was some connection between it and the person she had lost. But was that something that Seifer had the right to share? 

“Is this something you really should be telling me?” 

“I saw Fuu after your time in the hanger. We talked. She asked me about your question. How it connected to the state you were in when I brought them to you. Don't underestimate the girl. She's sharp. Put the points together. Like you would in her place. Asked me to talk to you.” 

“You're talking to me.” 

“Talk to you about this. Not that I'm the best person to try and comfort you here. I've never really cared about anyone the way we're talking about here. But she's concerned, and when Fuu is concerned, I have to step in. Otherwise Rai will, and he'll just fuck everything up. Love the guy, but he's clumsy in more than one way.” 

“I have to agree,” Nida mumbled, remembering that he was already getting a bruise from Raijin's inability to keep the engine hoist under control. “Sometimes I wonder how he's so good with that staff...” 

“Oh he's...” Seifer started to say, only to pause when Nida raised his hand to halt him. 

“I trained with him, Seifer. I've seen Raijin in a fight. Over the years I've had my fair share of bruises from him, and I've dealt them right back. He wasn't top of the combat classes, but neither was I, and we got paired up often enough.” 

“Right. Well, as for Fujin...” 

“Please, let's spare us all the crime of me having to interact with him on serious matters any more than is absolutely necessary. What is it you were going to tell me about Fujin?” 

“She's like a lot of us here. She doesn't have the most wonderful background. But I have to say she's got it worse than most people I've heard the stories for. Her father died during the war against Adel, a Galbadian soldier. But her mother...” Seifer sighed and shook her head. 

“Her mother worked really hard to take care of Fujin and her sister after their father died. Worked late hours for dead end jobs in Deling, scrimped and saved to give the girls what they needed and a bit of what they wanted. One night Fujin was with her mother, coming back from the store. They'd left her younger sister with a neighbor. On the way back they were jumped by a cracked out ganger, desperate for money and a score. Fujin's mother gave the man everything they had, which wasn't much because they'd just been shopping. The man thought she was holding back, and pulled a knife. When they couldn't give him more, he attacked Fujin's mother. Stabbed her three times. Fuu, poor girl was only about ten, and when she tried to stop him from hurting her mother, he cut her across the face with his knife, ruining her eye. Stabbed her twice in the stomach as well when she wouldn't stop screaming for her mother despite her eye. It was luck that Fuu made it through the night when some guard found them and held her together until they got her to the hospital. 

“Fujin's mother died that night, but they didn't tell her for two weeks while she recovered. By then her sister had already been grabbed up by children's services and sent to a group home. And by the time Fuu was recovered enough to be sent to the home, her sister had been adopted and taken away. They've never told her where her sister was sent. Not even when she hit eighteen and had a right by law to claim her sister. Said there was no place for a mercenary to raise a child. As if Fuu had a choice whether or not to come to Garden. Balamb took her in because no one wanted her, and Galbadia sure as hell didn't want a one-eyed scrawny albino girl. That night she lost more than her eye. She lost her mother, she lost her sister, and she lost her life. Still she struggles on, in hopes that one day she'll find the girl. Hell, the reason she never wanted to go past cadet training was because she wanted to return to Galbadia, find some job in the army or as a security person, and get her sister back. Not that the girl would remember her at this rate...” 

“I don't see how this makes me like her.” 

“You'd both give up everything to make the world the way it was. But the problem is that you can't, and you can't admit that you want to. So you push on, push yourselves, until it's hard to recognize what you were before. Fujin isn't the girl she was when she first came to Garden, afraid of the very thought of a sharp edge, ashamed of her eye-patch, and unable to speak above a whisper. But neither are you. You aren't that kid that couldn't stop crying, couldn't handle a stuck up prick like me picking on you.” 

“You remember that?” Nida asked, eyes wide with shock. Seifer had never really hinted at it before. 

“Of course I do. Kind of envied you to be honest. At least you knew who your parents were. Knew who you were missing. All I ever had was an orphanage and Matron. You, you had this quiet, happy, privileged life. I had two years at Garden already to sharpen already rough edges. But you're not that kid anymore, just like Fuu isn't, just like I'm not. Do yourself a favor. Don't try to be. I've seen Fujin start to fall into that trap, start to get caught up in that despair. It wasn't pretty, and it was damned hard to pull her out of it.” 

With that Seifer pushed himself out of his seat, stretched, and threw Nida a half mocking, half serious salute. “Get some rest, sir. We've got a meeting with senior level SeeDs and major military leaders tomorrow at 0900. Squall expects you there early for one final review of your debriefing regarding the Zebalgan mission. Don't disappoint him. Otherwise he might have me send Fujin after you, and trust me, she is not kind in waking a person up.” 

“Of course,” Nida responded, amused that Seifer was actually treating him like a superior for once. With a smirk he returned the salute, almost dismissively, and then gestured towards the remains of his lunch. “Will you see to this? I've still got a bit of rewiring to do down in the hanger, and it goes more smoothly if I can do it before Raijin shows up to complain.” 

“Fine. But you have to know that I'm going to have to send Fujin after you.” 

Nida nodded in agreement. “I expect nothing different. Now get out of my sight before I throw something at your smug ass.” 

“Sir, yes sir.”


	32. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't read for typos. I kind of got derailed by a LOT of things these last few days, and so this chapter is being written shortly before its posting. What can you do?

_**Geez, I'd forgotten about this thing. Glad I found it though. Things are getting worse, and, well, maybe writing it out will help. Maybe then I'll be able to figure everything out.**_

_**I found this old thing today because I was cleaning my room. Yeah, horror. Me, cleaning. But I guess it's because I've been thinking a lot more lately. Not about the people, or anything I supposed to think about given my role. Nor do I think about my future as a SeeD. The only thing I find myself thinking about these days is him. Is Nida.**_

_**Sometimes I catch myself thinking about him during classes, during weapons training (which has led to some inadvertent displays of my real speed to save myself some really bad cuts from Alana), and of course when I'm with him. I notice how he's grown since we met, the determination in his eyes when he's working on some problem, the true happiness in his smile when he sees me. Hyne, that smile. My heart. It...**_

_**It skips a beat.**_

_**Is this what it's like then? A tightness in my chest. My hands getting all sweaty when there's a reason to touch him? My hands shake. I smile when he smiles. Every spare moment I get is with him.**_

_**I think...**_

_**I think I'm starting to love him.**_

Nida sighed, shaking his head as he read the entry in Elijah's journal. As much as he'd wanted to spend the previous night reading, there had been other things to deal with. He'd spent hours—with the help of Fujin and Raijin—moving his now meager possessions back to his old rooms, and cleaning. The moving hadn't taken long. The cleaning had. Raijin hadn't been much help but for the moving of stuff, whereas Fujin had been a silent, and devoted worker. That being said, she had more than once cast some look or other at Nida as they gathered up shattered pieces of furniture or scraps of clothing. She had looked particularly disapproving over the destruction of his weapons, but even though she looked like she wanted to ask him for an explanation, she'd kept her tongue and opinions to herself. Nida himself had been rather disappointed in himself as he looked over the destruction. So much of his life gone in a burst of rage. Not to mention the weapons. All he had left was the metal practice weapons, his carved staff, and the poleax that had wrought all of the destruction. 

Late in the night Seifer had joined them to help Nida and Raijin maneuver the new furniture, while Fujin had slowly but surely sorted through Nida's damaged clothing to separate out the surviving pieces from the damaged. There hadn't been too much to make it, though Fujin had quietly promised to see if she couldn't look for a few extra pairs of pants and shirts next time she was in Balamb. It was a kind offer, for all that Nida wasn't sure whether he felt comfortable with the idea or not. By the end the other two had left Nida alone with Seifer to fetch dinner for them all, to be shared as they 'christened' his new room—why Raijin felt a new room needed christened was beyond Nida's comprehension, but he'd insisted. Then... Then Seifer has handed over one of the other items that had been recovered from the Zebalgan sanctuary. Elijah's sword. 

Now Nida leaned against the wall beside the door of the conference room, two hours early for the scheduled meeting, journal in hand and Rupio hanging at his side. The few people he'd encountered as he'd strode through Garden in his uniform and wearing the weapon had given him odd looks. Cadets who had days before been praising him for his success over Elijah seemed to hesitate now. SeeDs who had heard of Nida's breakdown looked confused, or at least respectful of what kind of cost killing a close friend had clearly placed on him. Not that Nida cared about any of it. At the very least the sword was a weapon Nida had been trained in—to a degree—that wouldn't demand two hands. None of his polearms would do, and all of his training on the tambo had expected to have both hands armed. It just wasn't something he could handle, not with his shoulder still recovering from the wound inflicted by the very sword he now carried. 

Weird, how looking upon the pieces of the halberd that had slain Elijah made him want to scream in anguish, but the blade the man had carried almost comforted him. 

“Nida.” 

At the sound of Squall's voice, Nida closed the journal and slipped it into the nearest pocket. There was no guarantee that Squall wouldn't demand the thing if he learned what it contained. Nida wasn't ready to part with it yet. There was too much to learn. And not just about the Zebalgans. 

“Sir. Reporting as ordered,” Nida said, carefully raising his injured arm to salute, and trying not to wince. 

“Stand down,” Squall ordered, in his quiet, non-commanding way. That didn't stop Nida from snapping to the proper stance in response. Better to start right now at reinforcing that he was here and serious, not like he had been when he'd destroyed his room. 

Squall just rolled his eyes before turning his attention towards the door of the conference room and punching in the code at the wall panel. The door slid back with a whoosh, and Squall stepped aside and gestured for Nida to proceed him into the room. Once inside the door swept closed behind them, and left Nida to select a chair. It was almost tempting to just take his normal seat, but it was too far from the seat Squall took to really work. Instead, with a sigh, Nida took Xu's old place, sitting carefully and placing his sword on the table. 

“The sword...” Squall said, sitting himself and frowning at it. 

“Right of conquest,” Nida said, staring hard at his superior and almost daring him to say otherwise. “And my shoulder's still wounded. I needed something for one hand.” 

“It could upset people,” he pointed out, placing a few files on the table and starting to organize them for the pending meeting. 

“Or it could remind them that I'm to be taken seriously, even if I'm not the heir.” 

Squall nodded at that, and in a way that made Nida think that he'd heard some different opinions about Nida now that his status was different. More suspicions of who he really sided with as likely as not. Well, maybe this action would lay it all to rest. Unlikely, but hey, it was worth the try. 

“About your status... You are, and always have been, a SeeD first and foremost,” Squall informed him, frowning. “Anything else is merely a brief note in your file.” 

Maybe it was supposed to be comforting, but Nida sure didn't feel comforted. Was that really all he was? A piece of military resource, with everything unique and meaningful for him nothing but a briefly worded note in a file? And some interesting notes they had to be. 'Suspected terrorist sympathizer,' 'has prophetic dreams,' and 'murdered his best friend.' Not that the files would even bother calling it murder. 

“Thank you, sir,” Nida mumbled in response, glaring down at the sword rather than looking at Squall. Now that Irvine had admitted his position as heir, Nida would be relegated back to being nothing more than footnote in the annuls of history. Not that he'd really wanted to be famous or remembered. Just recognized for what he did. Was that too much to ask? Then again, after a short bout with infamy, maybe obscurity was better. 

“There are a few things I'd like to go over about your time with the Zebalgans. Your debrief was sufficient on most details, but there are a few things I want to clear up.” 

“Such as?” 

“You mentioned the final two members of this Zebalgan council. What can you tell me about them?”

Nida sighed and shook his head. “I'm not sure what else there is to tell, to be honest. I was never allowed to see the faces of either of them. What I know from Elijah was that they were the final members of the eight person council. Joshua, Xu, Ruth and Andria were the other four. Of the remaining two that aren't Boyce, there is a male and a female. The woman was a yellow, meaning she works as a researcher. The man brown, support work.” 

Of course there was more than that. There were the impressions of the pair as they'd spoken to him. The ways they'd reacted to him, to his words, to Boyce. Surely that could be of some help. 

“The man... Was more practical than the woman. More rooted in facts than emotions. The woman was more faith driven. Which Elijah pointed out was weird for a scientist. The man more open to opinions, almost as if he wanted there to be some option other than what Boyce was offering the world. The woman... I'm not sure if this will help identify her or anything, Squall, but she knew that Veringas was not only at Garden, but that he is the real force behind knowledge of GFs. I'm not sure if this got to them through Xu or because of something else. That's really all I can give you.” 

As he spoke, Squall had been jotting down notes, nodding silently to confirm his attentiveness. At last he finished whatever sentence he'd been working on and looked up and Nida, frowning. 

“Nothing more?” 

Nida could do nothing but shake his head, almost ashamed he hadn't asked for more from Elijah. Then again, Elijah had been very quiet when it came to the council. There was a pretty good chance that Boyce had sworn him, and the others, to a kind of silence that wasn't easily broken. 

“No, sir. But in the light of what I learned from Joshua about some members of their people and council not believing that the Heir was needed...” 

“Then the chances are he was either speaking about one of the people that have passed on, or the two surviving members.” 

“And not likely the man in brown,” Nida pointed out. “Nor, I think, Xu. She was very supportive of me and friendly towards me after my 'status' came out. I expect she was as set in the beliefs of the heir as Elijah was. Which would leave the mysterious Ruth, and these two people I encountered. And with how willing the man was to hear me out...” 

“There's the woman in yellow. She could be a threat to Irvine's safety, and yours. With you no longer marked as their chosen heir, and having personally killed two members of their council, you're not exactly high on the most popular list right now,” Squall said with a sigh. 

“Is that a guess, or do you have some proof on that?” Nida asked, frowning. Either way he wasn't sure he was going to be happy with the answer. Squall's guesses were good enough for him to be uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Garden before his shoulder healed without someone to back him up. 

“Megill has told me as much. We received a coded transmission from Xu's account. The best guesses say that she gave him access codes to it before her death. The first message came through the day after you were recovered. We've kept her contact line open ever since, but have done our best to isolate it from the system. Megill has been using it to demand we turn over Irvine and you to him.” 

“Me for my head, Irvine for his position as heir.” 

“And for their apparent family connection,” Squall confirmed. “Apparently he is offended that his grandson was brought into the Garden system.” 

That got Nida to scoff. “Ironic, isn't it?” 

“How?” 

“He sent his own nephew to Balamb Garden, worked with the Gardens himself, but finds the idea of his own grandson in one offensive.” 

Squall stared at Nida for a while, blinking. The look on his face was almost blank, as if nothing Nida had said had registered. Yet Nida could see something going on behind those eyes. Gears turning or something. Apparently Squall hadn't been aware. Apparently Nida had managed to leave that out in his last report. 

“Elijah Zale was the son of Megill's brother. I can't explain the name change, but this is what Elijah told me. It was part of the reason that Elijah was the Heir to leading the people. He was Boyce's last blood relative.” 

Again Squall was silent, possibly processing what Nida had told him, and possibly just considering what it meant for their efforts. In the end, he shrugged and shook his head. There was nothing Squall could do with the information now, for all that it would have been valuable before all of this. How useful of a hostage could Elijah have been before this all started if he hadn't escaped? If they had known his worth? 

“Because of Megill's current aims regarding you, I agreed to allow Fujin and Raijin act as guards for you because I can't afford to spare any of the higher level SeeDs at this point. We've got few people in the position to act as military leaders, and as you'll learn soon, we have need for every one. Including Seifer. I'm confident in their skills, though. I've fought them and they are good.” 

“I'm well aware, sir,” Nida agreed. “I've dueled Raijin several times over the years for weapons training. Fujin also had a reputation. With my shoulder recovering, I need all the help I can get.” 

Squall nodded in agreement. At least they could agree on that. For all that Nida hated it. 

“There is something more... I don't want you to be surprised by this during the meeting, and so I wanted you in here early. I need the Ragnarok battle ready at the earliest possible moment.” 

That left Nida staring at Squall in confusion. Why was Squall telling him this rather than the Esthari specialists who often worked with the dragon ship? They were better qualified to do an overhaul of the systems quickly, even if it did mean taking the Ragnarok out of their immediate and quick access. It wasn't as if the ship was great as a troop transport either, so... 

“I can't be sure who we can trust right now,” Squall continued as a way of explanation. “Sending the Ragnarok to Esthar for work could be crippling to us. To the war efforts.” 

“I've heard suggestions that the war is over now,” Nida said, less because he believed it and more because he wanted to hear what Squall knew about what was going on. 

“There are multiple reports from the highest levels of the intelligence agencies regarding troop movements. If the Zebalgans don't make a strike in the next few days, I'll be surprised. There are also rumors of air support.” 

And that would explain the need for the Ragnarok. For all of the troop transports, fliers, and other vehicles they had for land, air, and sea transportation, nothing quite came close to the fire power potential of the Rag. In the months since the Sorceress War the Ragnarok had been taken to Esthar twice to improve the ship. Now in addition to the machine guns in the 'hands' and the 'claws' themselves, there were several other offensive systems, not to mention defensive systems such as shock and awe and electromagnet chaff. Though it wasn't a troop transport, it was perfect for dropping specialists and elite fighters in tight areas, and getting back out intact. 

“Of course sir. I'll have to have a few others to work with me. Other than my arm, there are a lot of serious systems that will need to be checked. Code, wiring, technical systems...” 

“In the last few weeks we've managed to clear as many members of the mechanics department as we could manage. There are also a few FH specialists we've brought in and verified. You'll have them as a team to work with. In addition to that, you'll have a crew you will be expected to finish verification of, as well as cover basic training for.” 

“A crew, sir?” 

Squall nodded, a faint frown visible around his eyes. “The Ragnarok must be prepared to launch at the shortest notice possible. I've had the verified mechanics retrofitting one of the bays with bulkheads and crew bunks. You'll be moving in with your chosen crew. They are to be made aware of proper management of the ship, and combat techniques.” 

“Sir... I've never...” 

“Led a team. Yes, I know this. But you've proved yourself several times since this all began. I believe you're best suited for the position being offered. And it's a necessary position. Not just as scouting either. The Ragnarok is fast, but it's also a strong weapon. I won't let it go to waste.” 

That was kind of a vague answer, but more than enough for Nida. If Squall had faith in him, then he could do it. Squall had expected him to bring back Seifer, and he had. Squall had trusted him to deal with the Zebalgan camp, and he'd done his best there too. 

“Yes sir. Is there anything else you need from me before the meeting begins?” 

Again Squall shuffled through his papers, quickly sorting out a few things and selecting a handful of papers and passing them over to Nida. At a gesture from his commander, Nida started to page through the papers, his eyes catching all the key facts without the minute details. Such had been his training with counter intelligence classes, processing as much as was relevant as quickly as possible. What he saw in the papers Squall had given him was unnerving. Each page detailed the current air forces available to the Gardens, Esthar, Galbadia, Trabia, and a short paragraph apiece on the smaller countries. Gardens had never really developed in the way of air forces, and after the attack on Trabia Garden the already limited air strength was caught up in the Ragnarok, Balamb's fliers and troop transports, and Galbadia Garden's occasional armed flier. Trabia as a nation was hardly all that much better, most of their air forces being in the form of older model fighters that barely had the man power to support them. Esthar and Galbadia were the core of the strength of the world. Esthar had higher tech fighters, a reasonable fighting force but training relied strongly on system reliance, meaning that the pilots weren't always going to be able to handle technical issues. Galbadia's forces were better in technical aspects, and were well armed, but their military structure had been breaking down in the face of Zebalgan defections. The major leaders of the air force had disappeared, and unlike the army it was harder to disappear with a whole wing, meaning that the fighters were left behind with no guidance. 

If the Zebalgans had any real air combat capabilities, they could easily deal some pretty telling blows by going for Galbadian air force bases and taking down the support networks for the Gardens and Trabia. With the lack of real military leaders in the air forces, there was going to be a problem in the future. 

“This isn't good,” Nida mumbled, though he knew that Squall was already more than aware of it. 

“Things aren't much better with other divisions of forces either,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “There is less risk of desertion from regular enlisted, but without the command structure to guide them...” 

“They might as well be useless,” Nida agreed, putting the papers aside. “This is why the others are going to be busy, right? You're setting some of the A levels up as military leaders for a coalition?” 

“And your opinion?” 

That it wasn't his place to give an opinion. What did he really know of strategy? That was turning out to be one of Squall's real strong points. If anyone still doubted Squall was properly placed as the SeeD Commander, and leader of the united SeeD forces in the world. Cid hadn't gone wrong to turn to Squall, and unfortunately for him, Squall just kept having reasons and means to prove it. 

But his commander had asked for his opinion, and thus Nida was obliged to give it. 

“I think they'll have their work cut out for them. Organizing military forces isn't exactly something most of us were trained for. Not on the scales that we're talking about here. If they have to mind the people they are set to work with, protecting themselves at all times will become an issue. Seconds should be sent. Superficially to act as seconds and assist, as well as take over if something happens. But primarily they should act as body guards. They should be high level SeeDs we can be sure of. How that is I'm not sure, but it would be the best way to deal with things.” 

Again Squall was nodding, taking everything Nida said rather carefully. When he was done Squall leaned back in his chair, sighing. “That was what I feared you'd say. Seifer suggested the same thing. I hate to say it, but it might be necessary. The seconds would have to be given some meaningful rank as well, to put them within the hierarchy, but only in a position to report to the SeeD they are working with, or myself.” 

Then Squall was sitting forward again, flipping a folder open, and pushing it towards Nida. 

In it was a list of names. All of the A level SeeDs left. Not that there were very many of them. Squall, Irvine, Zell, Quistis, Selphie, even Seifer... And Nida's own name. His eyes widened at that. The names fell into one of two columns. Squall, Zell, Quistis and Nida's in the first, Irvine, Seifer and Selphie in the second, in addition to Fujin and Raijin. The third column... the major common divisions of military forces. Command and strategy, land, sea, and air. The core of the militaries of the world cut into four slices of a pie, and divvied up between the people Squall could most trust. 

“This...” Nida gasped, shocked. “You can't mean to...” 

“Everyone else has been informed of what is expected of them, except for you, Fujin and Raijin. Once the Ragnarok is ready to your satisfaction, you will be expected to do a tour to inspect forces, set command structures in place, and meet with ranking officers of the various forces you will be commanding. I've already negotiated this with Galbadia, and after that I believe Esthar and Trabia will fall in line. You'll be assigned the equivalent rank of Lieutenant General. I know it's a lot to ask, but...” 

A lot to ask? That was one of the understatements of a lifetime. As a high level SeeD he had been considered the equivalent rank of a Captain, with Squall two steps above him as—technically—a Lieutenant Colonel in any proper military organization. A Lieutenant General was another four steps above _that_ , putting it 6 levels above where Nida technically stood. Well, five considering Squall's circuitous way of telling Nida about his promotion to Rank A—and even then he was jumping from Major to a three-star general with no warning. No ability to even contemplate such a potential advancement. How was it even possible? 

Except the answer was obvious, wasn't it? Gardens stood apart from traditional military structure, but gave all of its SeeDs high level training. Training at or above the expectations of traditional military commission officers. They didn't train after high school. They didn't go to high school. They invested years of their lives into training, proved themselves battle worthy, and were immediately expected to be able to go out and lead anything from a one man unit to a battalion of cadets or local soldiers if the need arose. More was expected of them, more was doable for them because of the training and the GFs. And for the traditional military command structure to take them seriously, they had to step into ranks way outside of the traditional prevue of the Garden. As it was Garden's highest rank of any real connection to military understanding was Squall's traditional SeeD Command position, which was only a Lieutenant Commander in any real military. Even being a hero, he needed a rank to support it if he was to lead. 

“This isn't... Sir... Squall, I'm neither a Rank A, nor anywhere near being any level of general. Sir.” 

“And I'm not ready to be a General, but those are the ranks Galbadia feels are necessary for us to be able to make use of their military forces. Ranks high enough that should make us accountable only to the nation leaders and to each other. Fujin and Raijin will be commissioned as Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel under your direct command for the time being.” 

“And the others?” Nida asked, staring at the list. Irvine was marked down as a Major General directly reporting to General Leonhart. Squall's neat handwriting in the margins also noted that the Sorceresses Rinoa and Edea would remain with him as much for their protection as his. Quistis and Selphie were to lead the united naval forces, likely ranked as Vice and Rear Admirals respectively. But the most puzzling was the unlikely combination of Zell and Seifer. 

“Zell and Seifer?” 

“Neither Quistis nor Selphie could do as much good with foot soldiers as Zell or Seifer. The Garden Council has been grooming Zell as a ground forces commander since the war. Seifer... He's no happier than Zell, but he's got experience with ground troops that is second to none. They'll have to deal with what's needed, and put aside their differences.” 

Easier said than done, but what could anyone really expect? War made for strange bedfellows, as it were said. If Xu hadn't turned out to be a traitor, she likely would have been sent with Zell to lead the ground forces, putting Seifer somewhere else. As it was, Squall clearly had to make use of the forces he had at his command. 

“And Irvine...” 

“For his protection,” Squall admitted. “And the need to have him available if...” 

If he dreamt something. Nida had to bite the inside of his lip. He could understand that provision. Unlike Irvine, he had a good reason to be deployed in another way. He knew air forces, he trained fighters and fliers. And from the implication in Squall's voice, Irvine had been given a dream since the Zebalgan refuge, which Nida hadn't. Part of Nida envied Irvine that. Another pitied him. And a third just wished that he didn't have to dream each night of Elijah's death, and of a glowing arch filled with pale blue light. 

“I'll try not to let you down, Sir.” 

“You haven't so far. You've earned your promotion, Nomura. Don't think that this is just because of the war. When this is all over, and we've all had a bit of a break, I'd like you to reconsider my offer from before all of this started.” 

Offer? What offer? It actually took Nida a minute of seriously racking his brain before it came up. It had been before the meeting where Boyce's retirement had been announced, where Nida had been given the assignment to find Seifer, before things had changed. Two weeks before all of that there had been a full SeeD meeting where Squall had asked for volunteers to transfer to other Gardens to help redesign training programs to turn out better high level SeeDs. To help lead those Gardens. Nida had been one of those SeeDs Squall had singled out afterward to ask personally to consider a transfer. They'd had time, before everything had started, until Nida had to turn in his answer. And the whole need to make a decision had suddenly fallen by the wayside. 

“Sir...?” 

“I want you to consider a transfer. To Galbadia specifically. I feel you'd be useful in improving their program. And I think you could use the time away from Balamb.” 

Apparently Squall had figured out there was more going on between Nida and Elijah than he'd ever admitted. 

“It might be easier for you to cope with the loss of your friend if you weren't here.” 

Or not. Oh well. For all that Squall was a born leader, he wasn't always the most perceptive on other things. At this point, explaining would be more pain than it was worth. 

“I'll consider it, Sir. Now, if that is all, I believe I would appreciate some coffee and my pain medication before the proper begin of the meeting. If I might be excused.” 

Squall glanced at the wall clock, and when he looked so did Nida. There was still more than an hour. This had taken far less time than Nida had expected. Then again, he'd expected a full debrief. 

“Under one condition, Nomura.” 

“Sir?” 

“Large coffee. Black, one sugar. Two aspirin on the side.” 

“Yes sir,” Nida agreed, pushing back from the table and lifting Rupio from the table. “I hope you don't mind if I kidnap a cadet to carry things here for me.” 

“Use Seifer,” Squall suggested. 

“Is that an order sir.” 

“Yes,” he said, a slight, almost vicious smirk on his face. “I hear he likes to sleep in.” 

* * * * * * 

_**Apparently avoiding him wasn't the best answer to the problem. As much credit as I give him, Nida's still too perceptive to fool. Turns out I made him this promise last year to help him train when he got his first training weapon. Of course, back then I hadn't realized I was falling for him, hadn't been dreaming of kisses (yeah, that's a thing now). Anyway, Nida wasn't going to let me avoid him anymore. Forced my hand and I...** _

_**Why did I do that? I knew he wouldn't, couldn't feel the same way. I could have been gentler, told him instead of forcing it on him like that. And yet, for just a moment, he was mine.**_

_**It was almost everything I'd ever dreamt of. His lips were soft and warm, and the feel of them so perfect.**_

_**Hopefully I'll be able to mend our friendship after this. But I can't help but be thankful for the memory, however brief, of the moment where he was mine.**_

“Will you get your nose out of that book for a moment and listen to me?” Seifer demanded from somewhere behind Nida. 

“I am listening to you,” Nida said with a sigh, lowering the journal just long enough to get himself a mouthful of coffee that was just this side of scalding. “I've been listening since you woke up.” 

“Oh yeah?” Seifer snapped. “What was I just saying?” 

“That you were going to see me dead for the atrocity of waking you up so early, and so cheerfully. Oh, and by the way, that was the twelfth time you've said that since you answered the door,” Nida pointed out, smiling to himself. 

“Well, it's no less true for the repetition,” the blond snapped. 

“Like I said, it was orders,” Nida chuckled. “Though I find it quite interesting that Squall thinks you aren't a morning person. I seem to remember you being perfectly amenable to waking early in Winhill.” 

“First of all, that was because back then I was pretty much on the run from, well, everyone. Waking up early was a means to protect my neck. Other than that, I wasn't exactly going to sleep well through the night with how much you squirm in your sleep.” 

“Why don't you say that louder, Seifer. I don't think everyone in Garden heard you,” Nida sighed, shaking his head. “Squall honestly told me to get you to help me. If there was malicious intent, it was his.” 

“You didn't have to follow the order.” 

“You didn't have to let me go into my pre-meeting meeting with Squall this morning so unprepared for what he was going to do,” Nida countered, as they finally entered the elevator. The journal was slipped away into his pocket and Nida took a step forward to hit the proper button on the elevator and press his palm against the scanner to verify his right to descend to the lower level. 

“I had orders,” Seifer protested, then sighed. Apparently he got the point. 

“Exactly. Though, honestly, you're less of one for following them than I am, so I guess I have a better excuse.” 

“You're impossible,” Seifer mumbled, shaking his head. “Just want you to know that.” 

“You're the one who has apparently pissed Squall off somehow,” Nida pointed out, leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “Way to go on that.” 

“We're not seeing eye to eye,” Seifer admitted, shaking his head and still working on balancing the tray of coffees and his own breakfast. “Nothing new there.” 

No, nothing new at all. Everything else seemed to be changing around them, but Seifer and Squall kept the same. Or close enough to it that it was hard to tell the difference. 

“Are we ready for this?” Nida found himself asking Seifer as the elevator came to a stop. 

“For what?” 

“What comes next.” 

Seifer sighed and shook his head. “Honestly, I've got no idea. What Squall's planning... Even if we get the agreements we need, it's going to be hard to handle the people we're told to deal with. You've got to deal with conflicting interests, people who used to be at war, people who won't think you're fit to command...” 

“Sounds like you've had experience with that,” Nida said, only to instantly realize that Seifer likely had. He'd been the commander of Galbadian forces during the Sorceress war. Sure, he'd still had higher level military leaders to work with, but he'd been for all intents and purposes the supreme commander under the possessed Edea. No one would know better than him what it would be like to lead a force of the size they were talking about. Part of the reason he was being sent with Zell as likely as not. The ground forces would be the largest, that most difficult to handle. There would be a lot of problems that would arise with such a force. A joint air force would be easier to handle simply because it would be smaller. 

“We can do this, right?” 

Seifer shrugged and strode forward as the elevator door opened. “You're the prophet. Or one of them. You tell me.”


	33. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The recent lack of regularly scheduled update was due to me feeling wholly under the weather for a time, and just not being able to churn out what I felt was adequate for my continued work on this story. But now I'm back, despite a lot of business, to give you more.

_**Of all the things I expected out of life, a lecture from Alana wasn't even near the top of my list. She came to find me outside, pressed me about how Nida'd been acting lately. I guess this time it was more of us avoiding each other, but it was still mainly me. For all that she thinks we're equals, she is kind of smart. Noticed everything, figured it out. And she told me pretty much to get off my ass and do something. So I did. I went to find Nida.**_

_**He always beats me to the punch. I'll have to give him credit too. The boy sure can kiss.**_

_**We swore not to talk about it (though I didn't tell him about Alana), but I don't suppose writing's an issue. After all, this is just me talking to myself, right?**_

_**Now there's a crazy thought. I just hope I don't suddenly expect myself to respond.**_

Nida sighed and returned the journal to his pocket before reaching for the remains of his coffee. He froze with his hand halfway there as the conference room door slid open, dumping Irvine into the room, with an overly cheerful Selphie trailing behind him. As Irvine passed Nida he reached out, grabbed Nida's cup and downed it all in one go, before pulling a face. 

“What the hell do you put in this?” Irvine demanded, looking utterly horrified. 

“Sugar,” Nida said with a smirk. “Ever heard of it?” 

“He reacts the same to my coffee,” Selphie laughed, moving to push Irvine into Xu's old seat at the head of the table beside Squall, then sitting between Nida and Irvine herself. “He's just terrible at mornings.” 

“Nothing new there,” Nida chuckled. “He's still better than...” 

A moment of silence and then Selphie was wrapping her arms around Nida's shoulders in a comforting, uncomfortably tight hug. 

“If nothing else, he was a good SeeD,” Selphie whispered in his ear before pulling away and resuming her seat. 

“Damn good swordsman,” Seifer confirmed from his spot next to Nida, turning his attention from Raijin and Fujin who sat across from them for the first time since the pair had entered. Why they were even here Nida wasn't sure. This was supposed to be a senior SeeD meeting, but since the two were to be assigned to him, there presence was probably justified. Did they know they were about to be given an unreasonable amount of power for people their age? They weren't even SeeDs, neither had taken their exams, had been on the track to do so this year. And Nida? He was only 19. How could Squall be putting this kind of power into his hands? How was he going to handle it? 

With a sigh Nida looked up from the table and his gaze met the piercing red glare of Fujin's eye. Of everyone here, save Squall and Seifer, she seemed the most composed. Irvine had his head down on the table, grumbling. Selphie and Zell were both all but bouncing in their seats. Quistis looked predictably preoccupied, and Raijin confused by his own presence. But Fujin had all of the still calmness of Squall mixed with the self-assurance of Seifer. It was an unnerving combination that almost put Nida on edge. The way Fujin was sitting there, staring at him, almost made it feel like she was the only one really in control of the situation. More in control than Squall, less on edge than Seifer. Fujin could easily be a leader in her own right... had been now that Nida thought about it. Surprising how many times that was really coming up lately. Fujin had been a commander or something like that under Seifer in Galbadia. She knew how to work with enlisted men, knew how to get them to obey. She'd be his greatest asset in what came next, if she could handle airmen as well as she had foot soldiers. 

“Quiet,” Squall said, and that was all the warning any of them had before the screen started to roll down at the end of the table nearest Seifer and Raijin. It was time, then, for everything to begin. Great. Just what he wanted. Another long, drawn out meeting that would find some world leader shouting about something between when Squall started the discussion and their eventual relenting to his will. 

There was only enough time to straighten Rupio, which once more lay on the table before him, before the screen came alive with not only the same leaders that had been there last time, but also the general now leading the Galbadian military, Minister Seagill, a Trabian that Nida didn't realize but assumed to be their General Rydel. And that didn't even begin to note the presence Headmasters Kramer, Martine of Galbadia and Justine of Trabia, and their acting SeeD Commanders, neither of whom Nida was particularly familiar with and both of whom technically reported to Squall. Even the head of the White SeeDs, Commander Reis Anders was visible in one corner. Needless to say the images of each individual was far more limited than it had been before. But it was needful, and Nida knew it. Easier to have military conversations in real time, especially when the military leaders would be as important for the following discussion as the civilian ones. 

“Gentlemen. Ladies,” Squall said, tipping his head slightly in greeting. 

“Squall, how...” Laguna started to say, only to be cut off by Kiros's voice. 

“Let's skip the pleasantries, Laguna,” Kiros sighed, shaking his head. “With the numbers we've got here, I think we would all be thankful to skip an hour of dealing with everything. And I assume that an hour beyond what we've already got to do is something none of us will want to lose.” 

“Agreed,” President Caraway said, his sentiment echoed by a nod from his own military advisor, General Rydel, and all three SeeD Commanders. “I assume everyone here knows what SeeD Commander Leonhart is suggesting here.” 

Mostly assent all around, though there were a few notable confused looks, such as that from Duke Freizan of Dollet, President Loire, Raijin, Headmistress Justine, and the representatives of FH, Timber. Interesting combination who weren't in the loop. The military leaders seemed to be aware, though they gave no indication of whether or not they supported the idea. But to have some of the world leaders, especially Laguna, unaware... This was going to be an interesting conversation as people worked their way through their shock. 

“It was felt best by some that others should be kept from brooding over the discussion topic for too long,” Kiros provided helpfully for Caraway. 

“Hey, what's that supposed to mean?” Laguna demanded. 

Several people rolled their eyes at that, and Nida didn't doubt that Squall was among that number. He wasn't really sure, busy as he was rolling his own eyes. Even he wasn't beyond questioning what the Esthari people were thinking when they kept calling for Laguna to lead them. But their decision was for them to make, and the rest of the world just had to live with it. 

There was nothing to be done for it, though. Squall obviously had to go through the plan with those who had not been appraised of it before, leaving Nida to relax in his chair and feign attentiveness. Not that he really was paying much attention. Instead he pulled out the journal once more, hiding it in his lap and reaching for Siren to get her help in reading the text despite the dim light. She wasn't as good at enhancing his sight as she was at enhancing his hearing, but there were things that one just had to make do with. 

_**Yeah, so I've thought a bit about it since the last entry. The idea of talking to myself is weird. So uh... I'm going to try something new. Okay? Yeah, so here goes.**_

_**Nida, I really think I'm starting to love you. Not in that fumbling hands and stolen kisses way either. I can't bear the thought of being apart from you, and it scares me. You don't, can't, know the truth of things. No matter how much I want it, I won't be able to stay at your side. It's the cost of being the heir of the people. Some day I'll have to leave. And the thought pains me. Even if I didn't have responsibilities to the people, to our legacy, to Boyce and the line of succession, bonds outside of the blood are discouraged.**_

_**Some day we'll let this go because we have to. All I can hope is that we grow out of it naturally.**_

“...an obvious traitor who killed a worthless ally to win your trust!” Duke Freizan was yelling when Nida finished the entry. Had he really been reading long enough to have made it through the explanation and hear the beginnings of the trouble? Or had the Duke cut in on Squall? Either way he was likely going to regret his boisterous tirade at Squall. 

“If that's the worst you can come up with, I'm kind of let down. I was expecting better insults, Duke,” Seifer said, sounding bored more than anything. 

“And the other one,” Freizan rolled on, as if Seifer hadn't even said anything. “First he attempts to escape your Garden with one of his friends, leading to the injury of many of your own people, then he poses as this Heir thing, he constantly disobeys your orders and...” 

“Just stop,” Nida said, shaking his head. “You're actually hurting my head with the level of idiocy you are displaying. Do us all a favor and shut up before someone decides to teach you just why it's important to respect someone who risked their life to protect your town.” 

“What are you even...?” 

“SeeD Nomura gained his position through his efforts in retaking Dollet from the Galbadian forces sent by former President Deling,” Squall said. “He was part of the first wave of Garden forces. In fact, Nomura was the one that took down the artillery unit to allow further insertion of our forces with minimal damage. He risked his life for you and your people, and you owe him respect for that if nothing else.” 

“SeeDs Xu and Elijah also fought that day, so do not tell me that involvement with that attack means anything,” Freizan snapped.

“Don't speak of him in that tone,” Nida growled, pushing back from the table. “You know nothing of the kind of sacrifice he made.” 

“And now he shows his true colors!” 

“Shut up,” Nida found himself snarling. “You know nothing, Freizan, nothing. This fight is far more complicated than you realize. Do you think these people are provoking a war because they want a fight? It's Boyce that wants to fight. Him that is forcing this, not his people. You can't even begin to understand the pressures that he can place upon those of Zebalgan blood. The level of compulsion he can inflict upon those with the blood...” 

“Nida...” Irvine said, sounding almost worried, but Nida shook it off. 

“Compulsion? Hardly. These people have free will,” Duke Freizan said, smirking to himself. 

“Then I assume it's tied to magic,” Martine said, and Freizan frowned as the Galbadia Garden Headmaster spoke. “And before you attempt to talk your way out of that, think about the other strange magics we've seen these last few years. Argue all you like, but I've seen the tapes of Mrs. Kramer's presentation to Deling City when she was possessed. Other than the outright proof suggested by possession, there was the mind control of President Deling, and Miss Heartilly.” 

“That is obviously not the same thing. Controlling an individual and a large group of people are two different things,” Freizan said. 

“You're hardly in a position to know the difference,” Quistis cut in, shaking her head. “Forgive me for saying it, Your Grace, but you've had no experience with any form of magic, be it para-magic, sorcery, or other special gifts such as those possessed by Miss Ellone Loire. Nida is familiar with para-magic, and has been taught about both sorcery and special gifts. If he believed that the power was enough to achieve what he says, then it was.” 

“I hardly think that we should be turning our military forces over to someone like him,” Freizan shouted, and Nida just rolled his eyes. 

“Good thing that your opinions have nothing to do with me. Dollet doesn't have any air forces,” Nida countered. 

“How dare you? I demand that you remove this man from our discussions!” 

“Duke Freizan that is hardly...” Quistis started to say, only to be cut off by Squall. 

“Nomura, you have far better things to attend to than listening to this ranting, correct?” Squall asked, sounding infinitely more patient than Nida felt. 

“There are retrofitting procedures on the Ragnarok that need to be arranged. For once it might just be better for someone to do something to help us win this fight without having to go through a giant fucking committee concern.” 

With that Nida rose, feigning more confidence and self-control than he'd rightly possessed at the moment. He took a moment, slow and deliberate and with all eyes on him, to life Elijah's sword from the table and slide it into the sheathe he wore. Finally, with a crisp and flawless execution, Nida saluted Squall despite his injured arm, turned on his heel, and strode from the conference room. It wasn't until the door slid shut behind him that he let out a pained sigh and started to rub at his shoulder. As satisfying as it had been to do the little display of military precision, it had cost him a deal of pain. Not just now either. He didn't even begin to delude himself, Fujin would punish him later for injuring himself just to show off. 

Sighing, Nida started down the hall and towards the elevator. Part of him wanted to reach for Elijah's journal, to seek some answers there. But it had gotten him nothing but pain before this, and he didn't need any more right now, not when there was a war to deal with. Not when the only thing he could do to help was take the chance Squall offered him and run with it. The only thing he could offer was the service that should have been expected from him from the start. Service of a SeeD and a pilot, not some poor lost kid trying to figure out just what it was that had driven his love to murder people they had known. People who looked towards them for guidance and protection. Since the moment it had occurred to anyone that he might be this Heir, he'd lost everything he'd striven for in his life. And in the end he hadn't even lost them for some legacy he was even supposed to fulfill. 

That was the hardest thing to deal with, Nida realized as he waited for the elevator he summoned to arrive and bring him back to the main level of Garden. Since he'd woken up in the infirmary he hadn't had a single smoke dream. Not a single clear dream. And yet not a single peaceful night either. All his dreams had been either of that day with Elijah and Boyce, standing in the dark room facing the swordsman in red, or dreams of a stone arch filled with a faint blue light. No glimpses of the future, or of possible ones. As if Hyne himself had decided that now that the proper Heir had taken up his mantle there was no need to show the future to the spare son. Was it too much to ask that fate not toss him aside like a newspaper the second the evening news came on. 

_Well that is a relatively poor metaphor, my dove,_ Siren chuckled, and Nida cast at her the best mental impression of a glare he could manage. 

_I didn't ask you,_ he snapped back as the elevator door finally opened. 

_No, but it is my job not only to protect you, but to guide you._

_And just what is that supposed to mean, anyway? Salamander mentioned helping as well. Help how?_

_Oh, my dove, I wish I could tell you, but..._

_But it isn't the place of the spare son to question? Way to make me feel like a red-haired step-child,_ he hissed at her, entering the elevator and confirming his identity with another palm scan before ordering the elevator up to the main level. 

_Never, sweet Eagle. Never._

The words were different this time. Different from any other time he'd ever heard Siren speak—which now that he thought about it was still a relatively new thing—different from the sound of any other guardian force. And the strangeness didn't end there. There was a touch, almost feather light, on his cheek. Nothing was there though, nothing around to touch him. Still the sensation was there, and a moment later, after nothing but blinking, he wasn't alone in the elevator. With him stood the familiar and half-transparent form of Siren. The ethereal woman stood there beside him, he wings folded in tight to her body, and one of her hands lifted with its fingers resting upon his cheek. The air of the elevator smelled of a sea breeze in Winhill, and her touch was soft like feathers. 

“Siren,” he gasped, half in shock, recoiling from her touch. “Okay, this is it. I've gone mad. Someone call Kadowaki, and maybe Veringas. I'm sure he'd be interested.” 

_Now that is hardly polite, dove,_ Siren said, her lips pouting and wings fluttering a bit in indignation. _Isn't it proper for a gentleman to greet a lady gently._

“Yeah, well this gentleman is no longer certain of his mental state,” he countered, backing up against one of the elevator walls. 

_I assure you that you are completely sane, or as near to it as you have ever been. Due to my placement in your mind I am in more of a position to observe your mental status than any other._

“But if I am going crazy, wouldn't my own mind tell me that?” he pointed out, flinching as the guardian approached and again brushed her fingers over his cheek. 

_If my reading of your mind and history are correct, then no doubt you remember your work in that course on mental warfare tactics. You also learned within this structure to better tell when mental attacks are being used against you, did you not?_

“Yes. So?” 

_When you are actually debating whether or not you are sane..._

“Then you probably aren't,” Nida sighed, shaking his head. “That doesn't make this any easier.” 

_Few things will, my hawk. Few things will._

“Why are you here?” 

_To reassure you. I cannot explain to you your role in the time that approaches. What I know of it is limited myself. It is, if you will forgive my saying so, before my time. I am of the younger branch of the powers created by the one you know as Hyne. I am not privy to his thoughts. But I know you are important. It is something I am certain of in every bit of my existence. There is a place for you, Nida. You just have not been placed into it yet. Be relieved for that._

So much easier said than done. Hard to be relieved when you didn't know just what it was that you were supposed to be relieved by. He wanted to ask more, to know just what it was that Siren was alluding to. But what felt like suddenly, like too soon, the elevator let out the sound that announced that it had arrived at its destination, and when he blinked, Siren was gone. All that was left was a few wisps of magical energy in the air that he could only see because he was junctioned with the GF. Pale blue wisps that made him think, for just a moment, of the stone arch of his dreams. The thought was rapidly gone, though, left behind in the wake of the opening doors, and with a sigh Nida strode out into the main area of the Garden. Just what he needed. More mysterious words from his GF, which got him no where. Which answered nothing. Still, they were oddly comforting. 

Siren, oddly enough, kept quiet after the little exchange. No matter the prompting or cajoling that he employed to get more out of her, the GF remained silent, almost stagnant in his mind. As if she was resting, or was worn out by the effort of manifestation. If that had been what it was, rather than some manipulation of his mind, some hallucination prompted by the will of the spirit that resided in his head. It was almost tempting, all things considered, to replace the spirit into the safety of the mithril harp he wore, but something told him he needed her close, just as she needed to be. Maybe the manifestation, which was normally fueled by the GF in a battle for attacking, had cost her quite a bit to pull off outside of battle. It could be that she needed his mind as a safe place to recover. Either was he'd discuss it with Veringas later. For now he had a task to see to, whether he thought it would get him anywhere or not. 

* * * * * * 

“Could you pass me that ammeter clamp?” Nida asked, pitching his voice a loudly as he could handle with most of his head in what pretty much amounted to a rather complex fuse box in the Ragnarok's cockpit. Too much louder and the sound of the words bouncing around in the box might have given him more of a headache than he already had. Any quieter and there was no guarantee that his assistant would hear him. Still, to reinforce the request, to make sure that his assistant was paying attention, Nida took the chance to rap his fingers against the side of the rolling board he was stretched out on. 

A moment later there was an answering set of shivers as his assistant tapped the side of the board in response. The ammeter slapped easily into his palm, and as he reached out to pull the tool into the electrical board to test one of the wires he wasn't sure was running hot and thus causing a short in the display, he was forced to swallow a shout of pain as something collided with his shin. 

Before he could even roll free of the console so he could tend to his leg and yell his assistant, there was a set of hands around his ankles, and Nida was being pulled free of the console. Well, that could only mean one thing. And, sure enough, the second his head was free of the console Nida was greeted by the scowling face of Fujin, and the grinning one of Raijin down by his legs. 

“Some people just say hello,” he grumbled as he kicked at Raijin's grip, shaking the large man off and getting a chance to sit up on his own. “Or is kicking someone a greeting in Galbadia?” 

“SILENCE!” Fujin snapped, ordered really. 

“You know, by all rights I'm your commanding officer now, so you really shouldn't...” 

Nida didn't even have the chance to get the words out. Instead he had just enough time to brace himself to keep from wincing as Fujin's booted foot once again collided with his leg. Say what you wanted about her, Fujin sure knew how to put some force behind a kick. 

“Stop that!” he shouted, wincing and grabbing at his aching leg. “Do you have no respect for the chain of command?” 

“NONE,” she admitted, shaking her head. “WHY?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why didn't you tell us what was going to happen, ya know?” 

Nida groaned and pushed himself to his feet. 

“In my defense, I only found out a few hours before you.” 

“EXCUSE.” 

“Obviously!” he said, throwing up his arms in exasperation and instantly regretting it. The pain in his shoulder only flared up at the action. Just how was it that he'd managed to savage his room and not notice the pain? “I got up early to meet with Squall. I only had enough time after said meeting to to fetch Seifer, under orders, for Squall. If you want to yell at someone, I suggest him. He didn't tell me either, and he knew last night at the least.” 

“But if you were gonna be our boss, it was your job, ya know?” 

“When was I supposed to do it? When you came in? Good morning Raijin, Fujin, Sleep well? Good. And by the way I'm going to be a general in charge of a united air force and you two are my seconds? Yeah, great way to announce. I'm sure it would have gone over well. Better Squall do it when and how he likes.” 

“And leave us shocked?” Raijin asked. 

“If he feels it best, then yes.” 

“Some commander you are.” 

“I'm not in the mood for this,” Nida mumbled to himself, moving to sit in one of the cockpit chairs. It was only then that he noticed his assistant, a young engineer out of FH, was still there and looking positively mystified. Well, Nida really couldn't blame him Few people in Garden spoke to him like the numbers of the disciplinary committee now were. Especially not on board the Rag or in any of the mechanics areas. The only people who did were other senior level SeeDs and the chief FH and Esthari engineers who had been training him in the piloting and care of both the Garden and the airship. With a sigh he waved the engineer away, a chance the younger man took thanks to a glare from Fujin. Poor guy deserved better than that, but Nida really didn't feel like dealing with the pain that would come of reprimanded Fujin. 

“So I'm to assume the meeting is over then?” he asked, turning the seat to fully face the strange pair he was left with. “And you two decided to take back up your sitting duties?” 

“IDIOT.” 

“How in particular did I earn the comment this time?” 

“It ain't like we're just here to act like your guards, ya know,” Raijin said, shaking his head. “We are more than that now. Got ourselves brief commissions and all that. Officers and all that. Which means we're your seconds, ya know? Right hand and all that. Came because it's our duty.” 

“We're yours to command, even before it's in officially,” Fujin agreed, dropping into a more normal tone of voice. “So what can we do?” 

Nida smiled and pushed himself up out of the seat. “You know I'm going to have to work you hard. There's a lot we've got to do to be sure this baby is ready for the kind of strain shem ight be in for.” 

“Goes without saying,” Raijin agreed. 

“Well then... Let's get to it. Fujin, you're more flexible than Raijin, and I could use another set of hands helping me out in here. So I would suggest going to change into something you don't mind getting dirty. Raijin, I need more engineers here than I've got right now. Get to Squall's office and tell him I need my student crews out of their classes for the next few days. I also need some to shuttle in the regular FH crews, with a guard detail to make sure they don't get hit when they land. Got it?” 

The pair nodded, Raijin immediately turning on heel and making for the lift that would take him into the belly of the Ragnarok and out into the landing ground beyond. Fujin stripped off her coat, threw it over a chair, and gestured for Nida to proceed. All Nida could do was shake his head and smile as he guided her towards the panel she'd pulled him out of and started to outline what needed done. 

Maybe this would work out better than he could have hoped.


	34. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another day, yet another chapter. It starts to occur to me that this update schedule is hardly all that pleasant when one considers the months of November and December. None the less I strive to bring you more delectable updates. As it is this one shall be shorter than most due to the fact that it is, indeed, the holiday season and thus there are other demands upon my time. What can you do when family comes up, especially when you see them so very rarely? Well, anyway, here is what is obviously due the story: the next chapter.
> 
> I've also given Fujin and Raijin last names as of this chapter. I decided to keep with the theme of naming that was used for them. Fujin is named for Fuujin, a Japanese wind god, and Raijin for a thunder god. So I chose the names of Roman gods of wind and thunder for them. 
> 
> And just so you know, I was considering a cliffhanger as the end of the chapter. You can probably even notice what it would have been. Then I decided that the iffiness of just when I'll be able to update again made me want to write you guys a serious chapter. Hopefully you can forgive me for giving you ~9k words.

“Sir!” a voice called out from behind Nida as he made his way through the recently finished corridor that occupied what used to be, and might one day be again, the cargo hold. This was the third such call, and it took a lot for Nida not to sigh as he came to a halt and turned to face the voice. 

It was, as with the times before it, a younger looking cadet whose insignia announced had been given the temporary rank of private during his stay with the Ragnarok. Like the others his eyes were wide, full of the same doubt and fear that Nida had learned to hide almost a year ago. Odd to think that the last war had been so recent, when the events of the last months had made time seem to race by. How young they had been then, were now, and there was nothing Nida could do about it. For all he knew this cadet and the others had been tested in the last SeeD exam or two, but did that make it any easier? Could that prepare them for what came next, if anything at all? Nida didn't think so, but that was in part because except for the battle between the Gardens few of these kids—for that was what they were in Nida's eyes—had ever seen a friend fall in a fight. Fewer had likely been asked to kill before. Not that any battle experience they might have had would prepare them for what came with manning the Raganarok. This was a whole different experience all together, one that Nida was certain not even a third of those students he'd taught as the flight instructor were truly prepared for, despite the fact that any which had passed the course with a satisfactory grade had also been given over into his hands if they were able to be spared from other duties. 

There was one thing to be said for Garden trained personnel, though. This private, like the last one, snapped to attention the second Nida had turned to face him, throwing off a smart salute. The few crew members already present from the allied nations were still reluctant to see so young a man as Nida in a position of power over them. Galbadians barely bothered to show the respect due his position. The single Trabian woman had all but rolled her eyes when she'd encountered Nida. And the trio of Esthari who had come to Balamb to become familiar with Nida and act as his liaisons to the Esthari air forces still seemed at a loss for what to do about him. The only comfort was that currently the skeleton crew of the Raganrok was made up of enough Garden students to keep Nida comfortable, not that the ratio would hold long past their first stop, Esthari airspace. At that point Nida was going to have to do something, come up with something, to make sure that they listened to him whether or not they respected him. Too many lives were going to be in his hands to accept anything less than unflinching obedience. 

Nida returned the student's salute with a slightly less formal one, and nodded in acknowledgment to him. “Yes, Private?” 

“Sir, I was hoping to ask for a change of...” the young man, Private Winters his uniform marked him, started to say, only to be cut off by a dismissive gesture from Nida. 

“No,” Nida said, holding back a sigh. The same question as the last one. Seemed he was going to have to address this before they departed from Balamb later today. “You may not make a change in your bunking assignment. Unless a true problem can be determined to prevent it, those crew members hailing from Garden are to be bunked with more experienced airmen. Whether that means you're with a foul mouthed Galbadian or a Esthari who looks down their nose at you doesn't concern me. We're trying to foster cooperation among our people, Private Winters...” 

“Yes Sir, sorry Sir,” Winters said, half-shouted really, before looking down at his shoes. Nida was about to dismiss him when the youth spoke up again, this time lower and more nervous. “It was just that... Well, Sir, I didn't think I was going to be bunked with a...” 

“A what, Winters? Spit it out.” 

“A woman.” 

There was a long moment there as Nida considered just what Winters had said. He was certain that there had to be some problems with the way things were currently set up, in part because Raijin had been worked past the point of fatigue trying to shuffle the vast number of recruits Fujin and Nida had narrowed down into their crew into the rather limited bunk space and still follow Nida's commands on how things should be arranged. Nida had expected something would happen, that someone would fall through the cracks, but he'd been expecting to hear that someone had not been assigned a bunk, not... well, this. 

“Ah. I see,” Nida said, trying his hardest to sound serious and respectable when the only thing he could think of doing was laughing. This was almost a ridiculous situation. Who would have ever thought he'd been standing here, in front of a private under his command, trying to figure out just what to do about cross-gendered rooming situations. “Repack your gear if you've started unpacking, then take it and yourself to Lieutenant Colonel Raijin Summanus. Tell him that I've ordered you there and that he is to find you more... suitable arrangements.” 

“Yes Sir!” the private said, already cheered. He didn't even wait long enough for Nida to dismiss him before turning on heel and ducking into one of the cramped, four person rooms that lined the hall. 

With a sigh Nida turned in place once more and forced himself into a casual stroll down the corridor. As much as he just wanted to rush off and hide in his own small quarters until it was time to meet with Squall before departure, it just wouldn't do. For all that he didn't want a command, it was his and he had to deal with it appropriately. Running off to hide was hardly behavior befitting a general of any rank, especially at a time of war. Doing so in full view of half of his current crew who were currently settling in to their bunks would be disastrous. Too much possibly depended on them looking to him as a leader in a time of crisis for Nida to appear weak now. A little strength now would go a long way later, when strength would really be needed. Even if he didn't have it in him to be as strong as he needed to be, he had to fake it. 

Well, at least at the moment he had the greatest tool to the appearance of strength that he could have wanted: Fujin. As much as Nida had thought Seifer had cleaned up well in a uniform, Fujin put him to shame. Sure, she wasn't in the SeeD uniform like Seifer had been, but the general uniform that was being assigned to Garden members were rather fitting for her. In truth, Nida was certain she looked better in her generic uniform, complete with the shining brass pips at her throat, than Nida did in his SeeD uniform. Even the eye-patch made her radiate authority. Next to her Nida seemed like a guy who was still trying to get used to his uniform, due in part to the fact that Kadowaki had forced him into a sling a few days ago, reprimanding him for over working a recovering wound. 

“Sir, we still have a meeting with the engineering crew to attend to,” Fujin whispered, leaning in just a bit so that only Nida would hear her. The effect of her shouting was powerful, and they had long since agreed not to have Fujin speak normally if she could help it. 

“Of course,” he said, sighing. 

The engineering crew had held a monopoly on his time for the last week and a half of the renovations. The second that they had been brought in from FH and Esthar and passed through the best security review that Squall could conceive of (which mainly consisted of a bit of serious intimidation with Seifer's assistance), Nida had been at the beck and call of his crews. The Estharis had been set to going over all of the systems while the FH people had been working on converting the Rag to a carrier of people as well as supplies. Getting the place filled with enough bunks and yet also carrying crews for repairs and management and also to man the fighters that the Ragnarok now carried... And Nida had to be conferred with on every decision. Sleep hadn't really been much of an achievable thing these last few days between the planning, heavy lifting, and the strain he kept putting on his shoulder. In the end he still kept Elijah's sword with him, even now, too injured to really handle his normal weapon. Not that he would be expected to fight with it right now. Fujin was mainly there for that, and she openly wore chakram on both hips, not to mention two others strapped on her back. Already there was word going around that Fujin was the hard ass who would force obedience if it wasn't openly given. Too bad he couldn't let her loose on the engineering crews to get himself some sleep. 

“Finish the review here,” Nida said, though it was more of a request than an order. He'd learned rather early on that ordering Fujin around wasn't exactly the best of ideas if he didn't want a fight. She did what she agreed with, but the simple truth was the fact that she was there as much as a second as a guard, and wasn't about to let him get hurt for stupidity. He'd gotten used to saying orders, and not being sure whether or not she would obey. All he could do was hope she didn't disobey him in an open way. 

“AFFIRMATIVE!” 

With a nod Nida pulled away from Fujin and started purposefully down the hall. Luckily he'd ordered Fujin loudly enough that it was likely that the other men and women waiting to see him wouldn't bother him as he left. Sure enough he won free of the immediate demands of the crew members settling in, and finally found his way to the lift. While the engineering crew were to be bunked with the rest of the crew, in practice they spent most of their time waking and otherwise fluttering around the different parts of the ship that still needed their attention. At this point that was the main hanger deck, which was mostly intact and unchanged, except for its conversion to hold and rapidly deploy various fighters from the Gardens, Esthar, and Galbadia. For all of the time that had been assigned to this task, it was yet to be completed in part because of the vastly different styles used by the different nations when it came to fighter designs, meaning that it was a complex issue to get everything together and easily deployed when needed. The goal was to have it finished up by the time that Squall officially ordered Nida out to start gathering the men and women—and combat ships—that Nida had selected with the help of Esthari and Galbadian military leaders. In truth Nida was just hoping that the cradles made for the Trabian fighters would be functional by the time they were scheduled to load those planes in a bit under 24 hours. 

He must have been delayed, or the engineering crew chiefs intent upon his arrival, because the second Nida entered the hanger he was met by the sight of thirty odd engineers, those associated with Garden and Esthar at full salute, and the FH men and women just rolling their eyes at their companions. Between them and Nida stood another pair of individuals, ones that Nida hadn't expected at all: Seifer and Irvine. The two nodded politely, Irvine even throwing a half-hearted salute as Nida advanced further into the room. 

“Stand down,” Nida said, resisting the urge to insist that his engineers at least never salute them. Many of those from FH and Esthar had taught him all he knew about the Garden and Ragnarok systems. Those who were associated with Garden had either taught Nida, were taught by him, or had worked with him so closely with him since the war that he knew them all by name. It felt odd to have to act like their superior, but he had to for the sake of discipline on the ship. 

And this, Nida knew, was part of the reason he had never been tempted to join the military. Too much standing on protocol. Mercenaries like SeeDs could play things a bit more fast and loose. Sure, they were trained in obedience, but never in as rigid of a structure as a proper military required. How Squall expected him to cope with all of this was beyond Nida. 

“Well then, let's get on with it. I'm sure we've all got far more important things to do than stand around here and talk our heads off,” Nida said, at last coming within a few paces of his assembled engineers. He had to, of course, duck Seifer's attempt to whack him on the shoulder as a joke, though the motion he did it with was rather clumsy. Balance wasn't always easy when one of your arms was held tightly against the body. 

“Sir,” came the voice of the chief of the FH engineers, a man by the name of Daniels. Rather quickly he'd been elected as the unspoken head of the engineers and mechanics assigned to the Ragnarok. The men from FH respected his age and skill, the ones from Garden had often learned a lot under him in the last few years, and the Esthari couldn't help but be baffled by Daniels's quick and bemusingly simple answers to what others thought were complex problems. 

“Daniels? How goes the progress?” 

“Well, we've got about half the cradles up and ready for storage, and we think we've got a solution to the launch systems if you will look over them. Would take advantage of the fact that we can lower the entry ramp while at full speed...” 

“Slinging the ships to flight speed by using our own motion to give them a boost,” Nida said, nodding in appreciation. There had been suggestions along these lines before, but nothing that allowed for this to be done quickly and safely. “And your solution to...” 

“It occurs to me that the fancy launching system that the Esthari used to get the Rag and her sisters airborne would be perfect. Set the cradles into recessed guide tracks, with a...” 

Nida nodded and waved Daniels to silence. “If you and Lieutenant Yoriel have come to an agreement on how to get the system working, then it's fine in my opinion. Select a runner to send messages to get whatever you need. Whatever we can't get here quickly should be made available for us in Galbadia and Esthar. I'd rather see the system ready to work come our departure from the first airbase in Galbadia. See to it?” 

With a curt nod Daniels took the implied dismissal, grabbed the arms of a younger SeeD mechanic and the Esthari Lieutenant Yoriel and strode deeper into the hanger to where they had work benches set up, and would start to come up with their demands. That done Nida turned his attention to the other high ranking Esthari officer in the hanger, one Captain Orphis, who was an expert in the offensive systems that were being loaded into the Ragnarok proper. 

“Sir, my men have finished the overhaul of the offensive systems, and are ready to test out the defensive system we created that is based upon the shields used around Esthar. We can proceed at your earliest convenience and get the results back to you posthaste. I've also had the details on the new capabilities of the ship to your quarters for your review. The bridge crews are already being trained in how to handle the new systems, with training information and logs being sent to you at regular intervals. I'm also seeing to arranging training for battle stations for those in the hanger and whatever shall function as our flight deck once it becomes relevant. Finally, I have finished upgrading the command level consoles with holo-systems that are tied into the status systems of the ship with real time updates. You'll be aware of any damage or changes on the Ragnarok as they happen.” 

Again Nida nodded, thankful that this at least had happened quickly. There was always the chance that the Zebalgan forces, if there were any that could face the Ragnarok, would hit them long before they got the issues of the fighters worked out. Without a way to protect itself and its crew, the Ragnarok would become nothing more than a giant target, and potential coffin to carry all its hands to fiery or watery deaths. Now he could be sure of some level of defense. A level he hoped never to have to deploy. 

“And the missile systems...” 

That got more than just a few of his men to shuffle around a bit, staring at their feet in clear discomfort. No one liked the idea of the systems that Nida had commanded installed at Squall's insistence. Most of the weapons aboard the Ragnarok were for air to air combat, or air to sea if necessary. There were a few things meant to be turned upon ground based offenses, but nothing quite like the missiles. Galbadian designed things, ones that far too recently had been turned against Balamb and Trabia Gardens by Seifer's command. In fact, more than a few of the men were casting nervous glances at Seifer, who had arranged the attacks, and Irvine, who had been part of the three man team that had helped give Balamb the time it needed to get out of the way. The destructive potential of the items was extreme, and Squall had suggested them as not only an anti-weapon tool, but anti-personnel if it truly became necessary. Which made a lot of sense. Many people didn't quite understand what they were fighting for. Sure, the Sorceress War was big and showy, but it hadn't exactly been a thing a whole world could fight. This, though, was potentially world changing. If the power of Hyne did exist—and Irvine insisted that it did—and fell into the hands of the Zebalgans... Well... The plan was not to allow that to happen, but how often did wars go according to plans? 

“Installed, Sir,” the captain confirmed, after swallowing hard. 

“Good. I've been looking over the conversions so far, and they are masterfully done. Good work, men and women. From what I've seen, you've managed to convert a machine built for one purpose into something useful for our immediate needs. Feel free to give yourselves all a good round of applause after I've gone. In the end of this know that you've done something almost unfathomable. So much work in so little time. Thank you all. Now... get back to work. I'm sure we're not finished here yet. Dismissed. Kinneas, Almasy, with me.” 

Nida didn't even wait long enough to see if he was obeyed. In his position the world worked more by assuming that the people around him did what was commanded of them without having to pay attention to it. So he turned on heel and started to stride out of the hanger, not even doubting for an instant that Seifer and Irvine were indeed following him. By the time he made it to the lift that would take him to the higher level and ultimately to the former passenger compartment that had been fortified and turned into three rooms and offices from him and his senior staff—weird to think that he had a senior staff—Irvine and Seifer had fallen into step behind him. It wasn't until the lift was in motion that he bothered to acknowledge the pair with him. 

“I though Squall had shipped you out yesterday with Zell,” Nida said, frowning at Seifer. “What's changed?” 

“Nothing much,” Seifer said, smirking. “They wanted Zell to have a night to get his command staff used to the idea that they'll be reporting to the Sorceress Knight again before unleashing them on me. In fact, I'm sure Irvine's been sent in part to tell you that you'll be giving me a lift to Galbadia.” 

“Squall does know that room is at a...” Nida started to say, turning to Irvine, only to have the gunner raise his hands almost defensively before himself. 

“Don't look at me. I don't know what he's thinking. Few people do. Besides, from the way I understand it you won't be too pressed for room until you hit Esthar.” 

“Yes, but I hardly want to inflict Seifer's personality on my rather enthusiastic crew at this point,” Nida sighed, shaking is head. All he had to do was look out of the corner of his eyes to see the way Seifer was smirking at that suggestion. “I want them to be useable in the long run.” 

“You could always kick Raijin in with someone and give me his room,” Seifer suggested, still smirking. 

“Not possible. The bunks aren't exactly equipped to... handle his bulk.” Which was true enough. Raijin wasn't built like most pilots. If combat pilots were built like him there might be issues with fitting consoles into the cockpit with him. Not to say that Raijin wasn't capable as a soldier, just that he wasn't here to be a pilot. 

“Oh well, you'll figure something out,” Seifer laughed as the lift came to a halt. Then, with a half-mocking bow, he moved to raise the bar of the lift and gestured for Nida and Irvine to proceed him out onto the walkway. 

“I'll have Fujin figure something out,” Nida corrected. “There is one advantage to delegating responsibility, especially when you have an extremely competent second.” 

“Tell me about it,” Seifer said, still smirking widely. Apparently he thought himself a competent second. Was he ever wrong. Zell had the potential for two different worst case scenarios. One being Seifer just overthrowing him for the sake of it, the other being mutiny because the men couldn't stand Seifer's smugness any longer. 

“We don't have the time necessary to give you a lecture on being a good second,” Irvine quipped, smiling as he stepped onto the walkway, soon followed by Nida trying his hardest not to laugh at the fake deflated expression Seifer had pasted on his face. “Squall's got me here to give you some final reports and go over a few things before your official meeting and depature.” 

“And Seifer's just here as an annoyance?” 

“Pretty much,” Seifer confirmed. 

“Well then, gentlemen, should we retire to my office?” 

“Oh, if only we could really retire before everything started to happen,” Irvine sighed. 

* * * * * *

 After an hour Irvine finally excused himself from Nida's office, leaving Seifer behind and Nida none the more comfortable with what was going on. Little was changing, not even the order that Nida was to be deployed in, but there was some initial reports coming in that didn't sound too promising to him. Or at least to his ability to stay out of the worst parts of this fight for once. There was word of a stolen prototype Esthari airship meant to rival the Ragnarok, as well as increased levels of possible activity in the area of Dollet. No one was sure what it meant, especially since the Duke Freizan was being rather uncooperative about everything. The other item that Irvine had raised was a brief flash in a dream that found Nida standing over a body with a bloody sword in his hand. There was no real idea of when it might happen, it had been a smoke dream at the very best, and might have been nothing more than a nightmare, which Irvine was willing to admit. After all, Nida was a rare character in the dreams of the Heir, probably kept separate due to their joint blood. Maybe Nida had some power to interfere in the futures presented in smoke dreams, just as Irvine did, which made him too chaotic of an item for their limited precognition to really process. Irvine had also pressed Nida for information about his own dreams, which meant Nida had been reluctantly forced to admit that he still hadn't had anything meaningful since Elijah's death. That he still dreamed of standing before his red clad opponent, weapon dripping with blood, and Boyce all but egging them on beyond the limits of his awareness. A smoke dream that wasn't possible because one of the main players was already dead. 

Now though, Nida was left alone with Seifer, the blond oddly silent ever since he had taken one of the two seats across Nida's desk. They'd sat there now for several minutes in silence. It was starting to get frustrating, especially since there was a schedule Nida really had to conform to. Amazing, really, that now that he had more power and authority than he knew what to do with he was being forced to conform to schedules like he'd never known before. More demands on his time and less time to give to those demands, and here Seifer was asking for more than Nida could afford to give. 

“Are you just sitting here to annoy me, or has Squall banished you from any reasonable range of his presence?” Nida asked at last, too exasperated to deal with the silence anymore. 

“Just thinking. You're adjusting to your new position rather well.” 

“Not like I have much of a choice,” Nida pointed out, pushing back from his desk and stretching his arms. “These people need to have someone to obey, and they won't have someone if I don't act like I can handle it.” 

“Can you?” 

In truth? No. Would he have to anyway? Yes. 

“What do you want, Seifer? I don't really have time to...” 

“The journal?” 

That deflated Nida rather quickly. “What about it?” 

“Have you learned anything useful?” 

Yes. No. Maybe. Nida really wasn't sure. Since the meeting that he'd been forced to abandon he'd gotten through maybe a third of the thing in his free time. Just like Elijah had indicated things had started to turn into letters directed at Nida, letters that were clearly never intended to be sent. Message of love, confusion, support. But in the most recent pages things had started to change. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that Elijah had started to change. The time in the journal had been rapidly approaching Nida's SeeD examination, and more and more often Elijah had been confiding his suspicions about the heir into the journal. His confusions over how Nida could handle him so easily in a sparring session one day, and not at all the next. The way that Nida seemed to appear with perfect timing when he was really needed. Apparently at one point Elijah had even tried to trace Nida's lineage to try and figure out whether or not he could be the heir, and managed to convince himself that it was impossible. And then Elijah's words had turned towards Boyce and the damage he saw his foster father as doing to their people with his decisions at times. His growing suspicion of the power the ruler of the people possessed, and the eventual confirmation of it. Yet none of it was useful enough to bring to Squall and risk losing not only his last link to Elijah, but having is secret out. Since, by some chance, Squall hadn't figured it out yet and it wasn't spreading, Nida was happy not to share it widely. 

“Nothing more than I'd already learned and relayed to Squall. Trust me, if there was something...” 

“The problem is that I don't trust you with this,” Seifer admitted, frowning severely enough to rival Quistis in her most instructorly moods. “You aren't exactly in the position to be impartial with this information, Nida.” 

“You think I don't know that?” he demanded, glaring at Seifer. “I'm not an idiot. Quite the opposite. And who are you to question my decisions?” 

“Your friend, Nida. Or near enough to it. Don't let your new authority go to your head enough that you forget that I'm trying to look out for you here. Once posse, always posse and always united. Get it?” 

“I never asked to be a part of your...” 

“I'm not getting into this fight again,” Seifer said, shaking his head. “I've already got a headache from all the times I've thought and realized that I have to fucking report to Chickenwuss. You know the first few days are going to be him dicking around just because he has power over me.” 

“That isn't true.” 

“I know, but it's easier than admitting the truth that the people I've always seen as the kids I was raised with have grown up. Shit, things change fast don't they?” 

“Too fast,” Nida agreed. 

“Well, that isn't about to stop just because we want it to, so don't hold your breath. Accept it and move on.” 

If only it was that simple. 

_I could..._ Siren started to say, only to be cut off by a mental gesture from Nida. 

_No. No now and no forever. I won't have you actively messing with my memories. So stop offering._

“They like to butt in where they aren't wanted, don't they?” Seifer asked, a look of something like sympathy on his face as he obviously read Siren's activity in Nida's mind on Nida's face. 

“Like some blond gunbladers I've grown to know,” Nida agreed. 

“Don't you wish you hadn't found me?” 

“Every night, Almasy.” 

“Aww, does poor little Nomura have nightmares about finding me?”

“No, just waking up with you next to me. I mean who wants that sight?” Nida asked, smiling viciously. 

“Oh, you wound me,” Seifer said, his tone the epitome of mockery. “How can I go on knowing that the little gay flyboy doesn't fantasize about me like every woman that every comes across me?” 

“Who says every woman fantasizes about you?” Nida countered, shaking his head. “And next time you call me a 'little gay flyboy' I'll see to it that you're accidentally lost off the side of the ship while we're in flight. Got it?” 

“Sensitive?” 

“No, Seifer, surely I'm not bothered by the fact that I could be judged not only for fraternizing with the enemy, but for fraternizing with a male. Besides, it's more complicated than that.” 

“More complicated than what?” 

“I'm bisexual, Seifer. My first crush was Alana.” 

That got silence for a moment. The whole expected cascade of amusement to shock to realization that Nida had expected to see as it really hit Seifer. That Nida had attempted to stop his lover from killing his first love. Failing. Yes, just another little irony that made everything so frustrating. But who could change the past? What did it matter. 

“Don't even bother to say anything,” Nida said, raising a hand to stop Seifer as he opened his mouth. “I've got business to do go about. I don't have time to spend playing 'guess Nida's secrets' with you. Get back to Garden and pack whatever you need. Then get back here and see Raijin. His office is at the end of the hall. He'll find you a place to bunk until we hit Galbadia. I'll call for you if I need you, and if you need to speak to me, Fujin usually finds me disturbingly fast every time I try to get some breathing space.”

 “She's good at what she does.” 

“She's also scaring a good part of the crew. How often does a man have to face down a woman with one eye, four deadly looking chakrams, and who shouts in your face seemingly for the fun of it? No, don't even bother to ask that. I've got more important things to do than hear your answer. Like getting my last reports in order to deliver to Squall. Dismissed.” 

Surprisingly enough, Seifer actually seemed to take the command seriously. He was immediately standing, saluting smartly, and turning on his heels to all but march out of the office, leaving Nida alone with several data pads that had to be sorted before he could copy them to share with Squall. 

It took all of ten minutes of searching the piles before Nida realized that one of the reports he needed, the weaponry one that Captain Yoriel had mentioned, was supposed to have been delivered to his quarters, not his office. An odd oversight by Yoriel, but things were still falling into some semblance of order around here, and it was entirely possible that Yoriel had previously reported to a superior, or had been a superior, who preferred reports delivered to their quarters for review instead of their office. With a sigh Nida ordered the few reports he would need for Squall printed and then strode from the room to fetch the other from his quarters. He'd have to make it clear to Yoriel and the rest of the command staff later that he would prefer all reports that didn't go through Fujin or Raijin to be sent directly to his office rather than his quarters. That room was going to be the only shred of privacy he had, and considering the fact that he'd left Elijah's journal laying out in the open... Well, he wanted to keep that privacy. 

When he entered his quarters they were dark even though Nida was certain he had left them on last time he'd left. And as the door rapidly slid closed behind him and he heard the lock click into place he couldn't help but marvel at the fact that someone had managed to slip past Squall and Seifer's careful security checks. There was just enough time to curse his abandoning of Fujin down among the rest of the crew and Seifer's timely departure before he heard the hammer of a gun click back into the ready position. 

“Congratulations, Lieutenant General. They will be able to say that your position as an officer was the shortest in modern recorded history. Won't that be something to be remembered by?” 

Yes, but it was hardly the thing Nida intended to be remembered for. There were a lot of things to choose from really. Like being stupid enough to abandon his security because he thought that no one would be able to get into his room without access codes. Not that this man, and a man it was from the sound of his voice, necessarily lacked the codes. After all, Yoriel had supposedly gotten the report into his quarters in the first place, or so he claimed. Really, though, if he was being done in because he hadn't found something to be a bit off about what Captain Yoriel had told him, that was going to be the worst part. No, that wasn't it. Not being sure if the Ragnarok was safe would be the worst part. 

“Turn around. I want to see the man who betrayed Commander Zale.” 

Well, that at least explained a bit of what was going on, Nida thought as he turned around. Maybe it even gave him a chance, if he could figure out a way to use the information. But first... 

_Siren,_ he whispered in his mind, hoping that the darkness of his quarters would be enough to hide the expression that came with mentally communicating with a GF. Or, if he was really lucky, this guy wouldn't even know the signs when presented to him. _I need you._

Whether it was the darkness, unawareness, or the clear agitation of the man with the gun, Siren slid easily into place in Nida's mind, and with her presence came the familiar calm and rush of energy that came from junctioning. Not that he hoped to have to use it. GF gifted speed could only do so much, and outrunning bullets had never been part of the package. Still, there were things he could do to distract the would-be assassin without having to rely on his guardian enhanced abilities. 

“I didn't betray him,” Nida said as he came to a stop, staring into the barrel of a rather impressive shotgun. Okay, so running out of range was hardly going to be feasible. Great. Just what he needed, another headache. 

_Not funny,_ Siren informed him, a mental impression of a scowl on her face crossing his mind. Everyone was a critic these days. 

“You killed him!” the person with the gun shouted. “How is that not betrayal when he so clearly believed in you?” 

“I wouldn't have killed him if Boyce hadn't forced my hand. Your so called ruler decided that the only way to win me to your cause was to nearly kill me. Since he knew I wouldn't hold back against him, he ordered Elijah to do it. He forced me to kill him.” 

“Liar!” the man roared. Part of Nida hoped that one day he'd manage to get someone to believe in him so powerfully that they were just maybe the slightest bit misguided. 

“Don't tell me that it isn't possible. Surely you've done things for Megill that you never wanted to do. It's a power granted to him as the descendant of the Zebalgan King. Surely you must realize that...” 

“I...” 

Good, uncertainty. That was at least a starting point. Nida just shook his head and gestured with a thumb over his shoulder towards his desk. “Did you bother to check this room out? Elijah saw his journal into my hands before his death. Look through it if you want. It's all there. The unnatural power Megill uses to rule your people, Elijah's dreams for what you could be, his reluctance to even get involved in this hunt for power. He saw the Zebalgans as something more. Would you really destroy that chance he wanted to give you? Because you would be. Assassinating me in my own room would only start a witch hunt. Didn't that ever occur to you? Maybe Elijah wouldn't have wanted you to throw your life away.” 

“Shut up. Just shut up you fucking traitor! You even lied about being the fucking Heir. You're just some desperate freak clinging to whatever power you can grab. You don't deserve to live after killing our future king, after killing Elijah. You don't even deserve to be carrying his blade. I'll take it back with me as soon as...” 

And that was the sign that nothing was really getting through to this guy. There was nothing else Nida could do except for try to survive. 

“Lights!” he yelled, slamming his eyes closed and glad that he hadn't bothered to tell anyone that he'd spent several hours a few nights ago wiring his lighting system for vocal commands. Even as he spoke and closed his eyes he was falling forward into a tight roll, arm coming out of his sling to catch him as he hit the ground and keep moving forward. 

There was a sound above him, the shotgun going off as the man desperately attempted to correct for stupidity. But by then it was too late. Nida was in arms reach of the intruder, and the second the gun went off he was leaping to his feet, drawing Elijah's sword, and pressing it against the throat of his attacker. The man—boy really because he couldn't have been more than fifteen—went very still, his bright green eyes filled with nervous energy, his pupils hyper dilated in response to the sudden light in the room. 

“Dim lights to fifty percent,” Nida called out to the room, resisting the sigh of relief as the light decreased to the point where he could look around without too much pain. Then he returned his full attention to the youth before him and the crimson blade pressed against his throat. 

“I didn't want to kill him, you idiot kid. We were more than friends. Not that you'd understand. Now, either you surrender to me now or you will die. Which will it be?” 

The answer came in the form of a knee to Nida's stomach, timed so that Nida just barely had time to get all of the air out of his lungs before the blow hit. It was enough, though, to knock Nida off of his feet. Still, he wasn't winded, which meant Nida was on his feet immediately, crouched low and Rupio in his hands. Fujin had been right, Nida realized, to insist on Nida wearing the sling even though Kadowaki had declared him fit enough for full combat the day before. It had made this boy assume he wasn't ready for a fight. Even now the youth was trying to reload the gun, a foolish pursuit when he's got a guy with a sword in front of him and it's not a pump action shotgun, but there was no telling him now. He only even managed one shell into the chamber before Nida was in range, the full strength of his arms slamming the pommel of Elijah's sword into the kid's hands. There was a cracking sound and a cry of pain as the boy dropped the weapon. 

He wasn't finished, though, not by a long shot. Even as Nida opened his mouth to demand surrender once more the boy had a long dagger out, much like the one Nida had seen in the hands of Joshua—he still had phantom pains now and then from the damage the poison had done. But instead of turning the blade on Nida, the boy raised it and drew it across his own throat, long before Nida had a chance to stop him. All he could do was stand there for a moment in shock as blood gushed forth from the throat laid open by a single gesture. When the boy dropped the dagger Nida cast away Rupio and began fumbling for a Curaga. 

A hand coming down on his shoulder was enough to stop Nida in the course of casting, or at least to change the spell to an Aero and direct it towards the latest intruder. 

“Useless,” Fujin said, moving into the range of Nida's peripheral vision. “Poisoned.” 

“I have to try,” he insisted, returning his attention to the bleeding youth, only to see that he'd gone utterly still, despite the blood still flowing from his throat. “I...” 

“Can't save them all,” Fujin insisted, shaking her head sadly. 

“All of them? Fujin, I can't even save one when it really comes down to it.” 

Her hand at his shoulder turned into a hand on his arm, pulling him away from the body. It was only as she turned him in place that Nida even noticed that Raijin had managed to sneak in as well. Or maybe not sneak in. Raijin probably had been in his office after all, and it wasn't that far away. He likely would have called for Fujin immediately upon hearing the gunshot and run for Nida's room. And if Fujin had been on her way back then them making it into the room even as the kid opened his throat would have been easy. If only they had been there earlier. Maybe one of them could have hit him with a sleep spell or something. 

“You okay?” Raijin asked, though it was clear from the sound of his voice that he didn't think Nida would be. 

“Just peachy,” Nida snarled, jerking free from Fujin's grip. “Wonderful failure of security procedures. How did he even get in here?” 

Fujin frowned, shaking her head, and Raijin had a rather guilty look on his face. 

“He was an assistant to Captain Yoriel, ya know? He came up with a report for you, so I told him to give it to me. He agreed all fast like, and I put it into your office. I don't know what happened after that,” Raijin confessed. 

“The report wasn't in my office,” Nida grumbled, staggering over to his desk, where there was indeed a datapad. “I want this ship locked down, and Captain Yoriel apprehended. He will be coming to see Squall with me. I'm getting to the bottom of this now.” 

“You're in no condition to...” Fujin started to say, and Nida just cut her off with a glare. 

“That is an order, Colonel Venti,” he snapped at her. “Are you questioning my orders now?” 

“Only when they are made under duress,” she said, narrowing her crimson eye at him. “Don't act like this. We get that you're under a lot of stress right now. But is striding into Squall's office covered in blood really the best way to deal with this?” 

Blood? It took Nida a moment to look down on himself and confirm that yes, he was covered with blood. The blood of the kid that had just tried to kill him. Wonderful. Just wonderful. 

“Just get the body out of here. And maybe get someone in here to clean this up.” 

Fujin just shook her head, and gestured for Raijin to proceed her out of the room. Nida was left alone in the room with the body and no real idea of what he was going to do next.

* * * * * * 

By the time he made it back to his quarters from a far longer than originally arranged meeting with Squall, the body had been removed from his room, and the floor cleaned. Even Captain Yoriel had been cleared of any real wrongdoing with the event, leaving only really Nida behind to deal with the fallout. Still, it had been useful for one thing, Squall had determined it was best for Nida and his forces to depart immediately. Which meant that as soon as Nida had changed into a clean uniform he would be free to go to the bridge and announce their departure for Trabia. His true authority would begin as soon as he stepped on that bridge, as soon as he picked up the PA microphone.

He could remember a moment like this in the past. Another bridge, another PA system, another leader, and yet he'd been there anyway. Stood by while Squall had spoken, had taken control of a force he'd never wanted to have look up to him. Now it was Nida's turn. Time for something he'd never wanted to do.

Nida had managed to strip off the worst of the bloody clothing and pull on a fresh pair of uniform pants when a small chirp announced someone's presence at the door. There was another thing he was going to have to deal with. The offices and rooms on this level would have to be accessible to senior level staff and advisers only, and even then he'd have to figure out a way to reinforce the security measures even they would have to pass through. DNA was out of the question, to easily acquired by duplicitous means. Even palm scans were difficult to make fully secure. Oh well, it would be something to make things better, but it was hardly something he could deal with at this moment.

“Enter,” he called to the door, and listened as the door slid open. Of course he didn't say it before he had the dagger the boy had used to kill himself in hand. One wrong move from his guest and they would suffer the fate the nameless youth had intended to inflict upon Nida.

“Sir,” Fujin's voice came, quiet but still piercing through the otherwise silent room.

“I'm just getting a new coat on,” Nida said, replacing the dagger on the edge of his bunk. “I assume that everyone is assembled and waiting.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Which means you should really hurry up, doesn't it?”

Easier said than done. Fujin had clearly never been asked to put on a SeeD uniform coat before, much less the new full length version of the dress uniform that was being issued to all the SeeDs taking positions as military leaders and advisers. It had taken Nida months to get used to working with the simpler version, and the fact that he could call the old style simple was almost enough to make him groan. The new uniform still had the same pants and tall boots, but the coat was what was overhauled. There was still the stiff standing collar that felt like it could choke you or tangle your fingers between the buttons and the fancy gold trim. The shoulder shields didn't extend so far past his shoulders anymore, but getting them buckled to his belt was frustrating, and the chain always got tangled. The major problem, though, was the length of the coat. It wasn't the kind of thing Nida would want to fight in, with the way that fell all the way to his knees. Really, was such a thing necessary?

He must have mumbled something, because before he could really get much further into fumbling with buttoning the coat—who designed a coat that buttoned from the top down anyway—Fujin had grabbed him by the arm and was spinning him around. Really, she was far stronger than her slight form ever betrayed, enough to make Selphie and Quistis look rather meek in comparison.

“MEN,” she said, somehow managing to both shout and sigh in one word, shaking her head the whole time as she took in the rather pathetic appearance that Nida presented with his shirt in place but the coat only just in place, not a single button, bangle, or chain done up properly.

“You've never had to get this thing on in a rush,” Nida countered. “The old ones were...”

There wasn't time to finish the sentence because Fujin's hands were at his neck, tugging the fabric of the collar together and deftly buttoning it together. Faster than Nida could really follow she'd worked her way down the coat, getting everything straight and buttoned without too much tugging, pulling, or having to shift the fabric around so that it was proper and professional looking. Every time Nida opened his mouth to protest he was treated with a smack upside the head, so by the third time she had done it Nida had just opted to keep his mouth shut. It was easier than trying to argue with a woman that clearly had no inhibitions when it came to striking her superior officer. Obviously there was something very wrong with the relationship right here.

So when she finished with the coat Nida said nothing as Fujin snatched the shoulder shields off of Nida's bunk and settled them in place about his shoulders. Not even the variety of belts, chains, and straps bothered her as she set his uniform to rights. Then, when it was finally in place, she nodded to herself in approval, a slight smirk in place.

“You think you're so smart,” he couldn't help but say, smirking in response. “You fail to notice that I haven't managed to get my rank bars onto this thing yet. What do you think about that?”

“WHAT?”

“Didn't you notice? I've got the bars on my desk. I was going to put them on the coat when you came in. Now all of the work you have done is for nothing because I've got to take this stuff off to get them on the collar properly.”

“NEGATIVE,” Fujin countered, striding purposefully over to the desk and snatching up the pins that were necessary.

“You looking forward to stabbing me in the throat with those things?”

“MAYBE,” she admitted, rolling her eyes as she grabbed him by the collar. The pins went into Nida's cupped hand as she gently teased the fabric away from his throat just the slightest bit so she could take the pins, one by one, and affix them properly. First one side, then the other, the whole time Nida utterly still as she worked. At last Fujin released him, took a step back, and nodded in approval at his appearance. A repeated action, but this time she was right to have decided that he was done.

“Happy?”

“Honestly I think it would have been more fun to remove it all, but what can you do?”

There were advantages and disadvantages to not having known Fujin for a long time. For one thing, by not knowing her longer he didn't really have to worry about her knowing much of his own past, just the bits she assumed due to Seifer's meddling. It meant that Nida didn't have to pretend to understand what vast concepts she was trying to convey with her single word exclamations. But it also meant that in moments like this he wasn't sure just what was going on. Was that a joking tone in her voice? Was it serious? How was he supposed to respond? Treat it like a joke? Ignore that she even said anything? Try to explain that...

But no, there was no chance to come to any decision. No sooner had Fujin said it than she had turned on her heels and started for the door. As much as he wanted to stay behind and figure out just what was going on, Nida had no choice but to follow Fujin and go out there and give a speech. Why could nothing ever be simple? Was that just too much to ask from time to time?

Apparently, because Nida had no choice right now but to follow her out into the hall, onto the lift, and up into the cockpit to speak. But, if memory served he was free to turn the bridge over to her and return to his quarters after the speech, to grab a chance to get his hair cleaned of all the blood and sweat of the day and get a moment or two of piece before being faced with more responsibilities in Trabia.

Hyne did he ever need that time to get some pseudo-relaxation going in his mind.


	35. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter really needed to end where it did, but the truth of the matter is that I'm not done. Odd how I'm suddenly so inspired. Oh well, what can a girl do? So I figured I'm going to continue staying out of the way as people cook dinner, and work on writing some more. Which means I guess you're getting this on the 8th or there abouts like I promised. Weird, right? Well this was the chapter I intended to write last time anyway, so let's just get on with it.

They were applauding. It was something that Nida really couldn't process. He'd stood in front of people, with a microphone in his hands, and when he'd finally shut his mouth, they had started to clap. It made no sense. How could it? He'd pretty much told these people that there was a non-zero chance that they were going to have to face the newest prototype airship from Esthar and somehow survive. Told them that they were here to stop what would ultimately amount to a completely overhaul of the world if Irvine wasn't kept away from these people. That the Zebalgans pretty much literally wanted to gain the ultimate power over the world and force it to change it to suit them. And they had cheered.

Just what was it that made military people tick anyway? He'd never really taken any of the offered courses on military psychology. After all, the plans Nida had been working under when he'd selected his course loads and been infiltration and escape. The short term stealthy kind, not the long term one that required him to feign actual military sentiments.

“Colonel Venti,” Nida said, gesturing for Fujin to join him after the applause had died down.

“SIR?”

“What's our ETA on Trabia once we take off?”

That earned him a rather subtle rolling of her eye. But she clearly understood the real purpose of the question. How much time did he have until he had to act like a dependable leader again?

“HOURS.”

Nida nodded, half thankful, and looked around, as if evaluating his assembled bridge crew. Then, with a small, approving noise, he started for the door of the lift.

“The bridge is yours, Colonel.”

“NO.”

That definitely got Nida to freeze in his tracks. Had she just rejected an order in front of all of these men? This couldn't be good.

“Surely I didn't hear you right, Colonel. Surely you just agreed that you would do so and that it would be a privilege and honor to leave my ship in your hands. Correct?”

“INCORRECT.”

“Sir, if I may, ya know?” Raijin cut in.

“Lieutenant Colonel?”

“Sir, it's just that last time you were left without a guard...”

“I was forced to slay a young man for his misguided attempt to see me done in. Yes, I do remember that part. Your point?”

“Well, Sir, General Leonhart has ordered that we not allow another such attempt. And as he outranks you, Sir...”

Damn him. It wasn't like he hadn't managed to deal with the problem on his own. But dealing with Squall would have to wait. Nida really wasn't about to waste what little time he had to himself at this point on arguing with Squall so soon after the attack. Given a day or two he might be able to talk Squall down from expecting him to have some of his most valuable resources caught up in watching over him like hawks, or maybe vultures would be more accurate. Which meant that right now he had to leave with an escort. And Fujin had already, in her own way, made it perfectly clear that she wasn't going to let that escort be Raijin. Just what he needed.

“Of course, Summanus. That had managed to slip my mind. You are to take the bridge for now, and are to contact me immediately if necessary. I shall be in my quarters reviewing armament reports.”

With quite a bit of annoyance and Fujin in tow, Nida finally managed to get down the lift, across the walkway, and into the private corridor that lead to the command staff offices and quarters. Once the door that separated their space from the rest of the ship closed behind them, Nida whirled on Fujin and leveled the best glare he could manage at her.

“What the hell was that?”

“ORDERS.”

“Like hell it was. I'm sure Squall did something that stupid, but that doesn't mean that you were given permission to counter my orders in front of a bridge full of my crew. What the hell were you thinking?”

“That your life is more important than any pride you may lay claim to,” she said, absolutely unapologetic.

“It isn't pride, it's discipline!” he roared, storming down the hall to the door which lead to his room. Growling under his breath Nida punched in the door code and let the door slide open. The second he was through it he hit the lock button, intending to keep Fujin out just out of some kind of petulant need to win the argument.

Of course, only moments later the door slid open and Fujin strode in, giving him a look that screamed 'did you really think that would work?'

“Squall or Seifer?”

“Squall.”

Well, at least he couldn't argue with the source of her override access. Squall had probably meant for her to have it for good reasons. That didn't mean he was happy with it.

“You shouldn't come in here without someone to check it out first.”

“I'm a Rank A SeeD, Fujin. I can handle my own protection,” he hissed.

All she did was look at him blankly in response.

“Oh come on, the room is clear. Can't you just do whatever work you have to do and let me have some peace for a while? I could use it.”

“TIRED.”

“Of course I am. You know quite well that I haven't had a real chance to sleep in days. I'm going to grab a shower and then crash for a bit.”

“Not you, idiot. I'm tired,” Fujin sighed, obviously exasperated.

“Then haul your ass to your own quarters and grab a bit of shut-eye.”

“CAN'T.”

“Why?”

“SEIFER.”

Seifer? What did Seifer have to do with anything? His presence on the Ragnarok was only a passing thing anyway. How could that possibly prevent Fujin from...

“The best Raijin could do to get him a room was to give him yours?” Nida asked, rubbing his temples. This was just a headache on top of another headache on top of a migraine.

“You told Raijin not to put him in a place to scare the men, apparently. Your own fault.”

“And Raijin hasn't managed to find you bunk space yet?”

A shake of the head, and Nida just had to groan. Really, what had he been looking forward to these two as his staff for? Apparently they couldn't handle little problems like this one. Go figure.

“The bunk's there. You better not snore.”

Thankfully Fujin didn't say another word, didn't give Nida a real chance to regret the implied order. Instead she just shed her uniform coat and crawled into the bunk, quickly wrapped herself in the meager blanket and promptly fell asleep. It was almost enviable how quickly she dropped off. Quite a lot like a proper pilot really, able to fall asleep in any situation as rapidly as possible. Problem was that Nida had never really managed to perfect that behavior. He was too light a sleeper, too caught up in his own thoughts at night, and now too scared of his dreams to really want to rest anyway.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to do whatever it was that you were planning?”

Or maybe she hadn't just fallen right off to sleep.

“Trying to find it in me to care about the shower right now. I really should see to those reports and...”

Fujin sighed and rolled out of both blanket and bed. Once she was on her feet she crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “You just don't want to have to put that damn coat back on, do you?”

“Would you?”

“If it fit me like yours fit you, then yes.”

All Nida could do then was stare at Fujin, mouth half opened as he tried to think of something to say. It really didn't help that she had closed the distance between them and was quickly, and rather industriously, undoing all of her hard work of not an hour before, undoing the shoulder pieces, belt, and turning her attention to the buttons of his coat.

“I can do this myself,” Nida finally found himself speaking, even as he batted her hands away from his coat. “I'm not a child.”

“No,” she agreed, “I didn't think you were. Which is, I believe, the point of this.”

With that her fingers went back into motion, and Nida didn't know how to handle that. This time he grabbed for her wrists, catching them in his hands, and meeting her eye when she looked up at him.

“Fujin... I don't...”

“I know. Or at least I can figure. But just because he's gone doesn't mean that the world's over. Quite the opposite. It's still going on, and you need to just keep living. Tomorrow arrives whether we want it or not. Isn't it better to just welcome it?”

Then her lips were against his, gentle and sweet. Her wrists were out of his hands, and her arms suddenly wrapped around his neck. What made even less sense was the fact that his own arms were going around her waist, holding her close. Maybe she was right anyway. Maybe it would do him good to just forget about what had come before this. Make life easier just to accept what was going on.

At last she pulled away, a small smile on her lips and something else entirely in her eye.

“This won't work,” he said, shaking his head.

“Are you saying you're incapable?”

“Hardly,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Just that this really won't go anywhere.”

“Because you're unwilling to try?”

Yes. No. no, he was willing. Willing to do anything he could to forget everything else, but not willing to hurt Fujin for it. As much because he was certain that he couldn't put what she would deserve into this. Was certain that Raijin and Seifer would see him pay if he hurt her. Not that she couldn't get whatever revenge she saw fitting on her own.

“I don't want to...”

“If you dare say that you're worried about hurting me, I'll break your arm, Nomura. I swear it.”

He believed it. If Fujin was willing to threaten him with it, then she was willing to do it. Which was almost intimidating in its own way. Still, he had to be concerned, didn't he?

“Stop thinking,” she whispered, her hands going back at last to the buttons of his coat and undoing them without any more protests from Nida.

* * * * * *

In the end it was the chime of his door that woke Nida from his nap. With a groan he untangled himself from the blanket and Fujin and snatched up his discarded uniform pants. Then, making sure that Fujin wouldn't be visible from the door, he went to answer it. As he feared he found Raijin waiting for him there, a far too serious look on his face.

“Raijin?” he asked, trying to smooth his hair in to some form of order. “What's wrong?”

“We've caught sign of something big approaching from the west. Think it might be that prototype ship or something. And second, I couldn't find Fujin in her room. Do you know where she went after...”

Nida would have said something, something that made sense and spared him Raijin's knowledge, except suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, pushing him aside. When he turned to look there was Fujin, wrapped up in the blanket in classic cliché form, and he could feel his cheeks burning. Raijin's eyes flicked between Nida and Fujin, then he burst into a disturbingly wide smile, clapping Nida on the shoulder in something that could only be approval.

“You hurt her, I break your arms,” Raijin said, still grinning widely.

“RAIJIN!” Fujin shouted, darting in to kick him hard in the shins. That got Raijin to laugh, despite the obvious pain.

“Well, anyway, we kind of need to deal with this problem, ya know? Probably best for you two to get dressed and up to the bridge. Sir,” Raijin added, almost as an after thought.

Then he was walking away, closing the door behind him. It left Nida behind, still staring at the point where Raijin had been, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. What finally got him to move was Fujin smacking him upside the head.

“Couldn't you have just stayed in the bunk?” he found himself asking as she walked away, dropping the blanket as she went so she could grab her uniform pants instead.

“What, are you embarrassed by me?”

“No,” he said, quickly snatching his shirt out of the air as Fujin threw it out of him. “I just wasn't exactly planning on letting Raijin know about my business.”

“Our business,” she corrected him, already into her pants and pulling on the tank top she wore under her uniform coat.

“Fine. Our business. Either way, this... I didn't want this out.”

“Because you're concerned with people thinking this is serious?”

More like concerned about her thinking this was serious, but he wasn't going to say that. What was the point of it? They both obviously knew it. With a sigh he just went back to getting himself dressed. Soon enough his shirt and boots were on, and Fujin was again approaching with his coat, and he stood there, silent and serious as she worked. Once it was done and the shoulder shields in place, she straightened her own outfit and smirked.

“Well then, shall we go deal with the crisis?”

* * * * * *

“Status report,” Nida commanded as he came onto the bridge, Fujin following him by a few paces.

“The object is approaching. Yet to respond to our...” one technician said only to be cut off as a beeping from another console announced an incoming communication.

“Sir?” the communication officer said, looking up at Nida.

“On my screen,” Nida confirmed, sliding into the command seat and pulling up its monitor. With a gesture Fujin took up a position behind him as the feed finally flickered to life. On it was an older man, with dark hair and frosty gray eyes. The little that Nida could see of the man other than his head and shoulders revealed what Nida recognized as a rather familiar shade of brown. The same brown used by the Zebalgans to represent one of the divisions of their people.

“Well well, I honestly wasn't expecting to run into you,” the man said, a sad look on his face. The voice was all Nida needed to confirm it. Here was one of the three surviving leaders of the Zebalgan people. A name came suddenly to the forefront of Nida's mind, and he almost cursed. Vernon. This man Elijah had referred to as Vernon. And the woman had been Ashura. Damn, Squall could have used that information days ago, and somehow he'd blanked on it.

“Forgive me, but I never really did catch your name when we last met,” Nida said, shaking his head. “And for how polite I attempted to be before you all.”

“Polite? You killed one of our number. I would hardly call that a polite action.”

“Yes, but I would not have done so were I not forced into it,” Nida countered. “Consider this, Elijah was a close friend and mentor of mine. It was his hope when I came to your location that I could work to undermine the power Boyce holds over your people. Elijah and I were to be allies, not enemies. The problem is the power that Boyce wields, his ability to force compliance upon his people. What kind of leader makes use of that power? Only the cruel.”

That gave the other man a moment's pause, and already Nida could feel the eyes of the others on the bridge glued to him.

“Vernon,” the man said at length. “My name is Vernon. And I will need you to stand down if you want your people to survive.”

Nida just rolled his eyes at that. “Well, it's a pleasure to finally get to know your name, Vernon, but the truth is that I'm not in the mood for more threats today.”

“More threats?”

“Yes. Though I am guessing from your comments that it wasn't your idea to sneak one of Elijah's former men onto my ship to try and kill me earlier today. He had a dagger much like the ones Joshua carried, also poisoned. He was nothing more than a child, fifteen years if he was a day. Tell me, Vernon, when was it that Boyce decided that it was right to throw children into a war?”

That got the man scowling, his eyes narrowed at the accusation or the idea of what had happened, Nida wasn't sure which.

“I would never encourage such underhanded tactics,” Vernon hissed in anger. From what Nida remembered from his conversation with Elijah, he was pretty sure that the man was telling the truth too, but that wouldn't get him anywhere right now, would it? After all, if Vernon was the one who hated war, hated bloodshed, this was the one most likely to be won from Megill's cause.

“Tell that to Squall Leonhart. Your friend Xu attempted to kill him, twice. And Ruth went for him as well, if you weren't aware of it. Even if these underhanded tactics aren't yours, you side is employing them and you don't seem to be acting against it. Someone who doesn't attempt to prevent such techniques might has well be encouraging them.”

“How dare you? I supported you when...”

“What does it matter?” Nida demanded, slamming a fist into his arm rest. “Elijah is dead, and it was Boyce's doing, not mine. How many of your people died in the attack Garden made upon your haven? Boyce knew it had to have been coming because of Xu. Not our fault she had the wrong information. The moment you forced us into a unity with the world nations, you lost. So why are you even dragging this out? We will win, no matter what you want to believe. You're going to get hurt, your people are going to get hurt, and for what?”

A pause, almost long enough to be promising, only to be broken by Vernon shaking his head.

“I'd say the prophecy given us, but what does it matter when the Heir will not guide?”

Too many sects, too many different sets of beliefs even among so many fanatics. Joshua who had believed that the Zebalgans could rise to power without the Heir. Boyce who thought the power of Hyne was his birthright and intended to take it for his own. Elijah who had wanted to live in peace, to let what may or may not happen come to him if it was meant to be. And Vernon, who truly believed that without a willing heir nothing could be achieved anyway. How could he use that to his advantage?

“Vernon, please, just listen to me, okay? You were more open than the others when I spoke, so I need you to just give me a minute here, just you and me. Can you do that? Can you trust me that far?”

The bridge was silent, utterly silent, at Nida's suggestion. He couldn't blame them. Knowing that their fates may rest in how well Nida spoke with Vernon. And there were likely still those who didn't trust him, couldn't trust him, that had to work with him anyway. They'd think this would just be a way for Nida to come to some kind of agreement to give them all away despite their best interests.

Fujin took a step forward, Nida could sense it as much as feel it, and he raised a hand to halt her advance. All she was going to do was try to talk him out of this anyway. No, he couldn't allow that, not right now. The most important thing would be doing this in private. Letting him play all of the cards that mattered before Vernon. Maybe it would work. He had to try. The worst that would happen was a fight that Nida wasn't completely confident that they could win. The best would be winning Vernon and his men as allies, tearing the Zebalgan forces and maybe changing the whole course of the conflict.

“Well?”

“It will take me a few minutes to arrive in a secure location on my ship in which to speak,” Vernon said at last.

“So that means you'll do it?”

“I cannot be sure whether or not the true Heir is you, or the one Boyce claims as his grandson. But either way I owe it to my people to try and make you understand the importance of your role.”

“And I owe it to them to get you to agree to end this foolish war. Take the time you need. But if you ship comes any closer to ours, my men have orders to open fire. Understand?”

“I do. I shall contact you as soon as possible.”

With that the screen went dark, and Nida took a deep breath. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed the screen back, triggering the automatic retreat into the original storage area. Then, with a sigh, he looked around the bridge, met each gaze leveled at him in turn. Once he'd done that, he stood and cleared his throat. Time for another speech already? Wonderful.

“We are at war. You know this as well as I do. But wars are ended two different ways. By attrition, who can handle the loss of their people longer than the other. By coming to an agreement of peace. The latter is so much harder because it means working together to overcome our differences. Despite our best efforts we have been unable to get Boyce Megill to see reason. The man I just spoke with, though, he too is one of the leaders of the Zebalgan people, and no fan of bloodshed or war. If we are to end this with minimal loss of life, it is only through this man that it can be achieved. This is a chance we cannot pass up.

“I'm certain that, given a chance, we might be able to come to some sort of agreement. I have to try. But if the enemy ship fails to maintain its current distance, you are to act at once. Respond with all force necessary to defend our people. Colonel Venti, you have the bridge.”

He didn't even bother to wait for any responses before turning on his heel, hands clasped behind his back. Waiting didn't matter much, because the second his back was turned there was the sound of people going on about their normal business. Young men and women discussing readings, shouting out information across the room, and Raijin's heavy footsteps pacing the deck.

 _We might just be able to do this,_ Nida observed, and his thought was seconded quietly by a sentiment from Siren.

_If they have faith in you. Much will rest in this conversation._

Which meant that Nida wasn't really willing to face this conversation alone. As much as he said he was going to do so, the truth was there was another resource he was going to tap into. One that could give him more information about Vernon to go on. It didn't hurt either that he'd be able to draw upon the knowledge of the individual without anyone's knowledge. And it required a trip to his quarters rather than the office where he intended to take the conversation. After all, better to not have a delicate conversation in the casual quarters when he could make sure it was serious by having the SeeD logo highly visible behind his head.

It had taken him almost twenty minutes with Irvine's assistance to talk Squall out of the small silver charm that Nida pulled from the meager safe meant to house his more restricted orders. Carefully he unclasped the chain from which hung Siren's harp and he slipped the mithril lizard into place beside it on the chain. Then he replaced the chain, hid the pair under his shirt, and almost had to gasp at the heat that came from the charm pressed against his skin. It felt almost as if the metal was searing him, trying to burn through the flesh and into his very bones.

_You have sought me, Eagle, and I answer ever your call, the high, crackling voice of Salamander danced in his head. There is much of which we should discuss._

_Which will have to wait. First I must ask you to help me. I'm to speak with Vernon of the Zebalgan council in a few minutes. I might be able to shorten the war if I can win him to my side. And to do that I fear I'll need more information about Elijah than I actually know. I don't need memories in general, but specific. Is that possible?_

_Yes, it is in fact a thing I can achieve. But I am no creature to be used at your whims. I am a being of power that you cannot even begin to contemplate. My place in this bauble, in your mind, are only because I deign to allow such a thing. And as the creature spoke, Nida almost felt as if he was being consumed by the flames of Salamander's annoyance. Who had known it could burn so?_

_Then why allow it at all?_

_Because it is my duty as one of the first born to be a guide to those of the chosen bloodline._

_Then you should be with Irvine, and this conversation is pointless, Nida could hardly help but hiss at the GF. It is him you want._

_Did you not hear me, child? We serve and guide the blood. Whether it is the chosen son of it or not, we guide. The other will eventually see one of our kind into his hands. There are more than enough in the hands of your leader, the Lion, and they will call to him. Our song calls to the souls of the blood._

_Then how come I didn't hear your call before this? Elijah had you during his..._

_No,_ Salamander interrupted, sounding quite forlorn. _First, we can only call those who have come into their power. For the sons it is the visions of the future. For daughters, another thing altogether. But I was only placed into the care of the fiery one just before his escape of your garden. I never had a chance to know and call._

_If you only knew him for so short a time, how do you have his memories?_

There was a chuckle, warm and roaring. _Oh child, have you listened to naught that Veringas has attempted to teach you? We make our homes in such a place in your mind that we know your memories, whether we are there or not. It is a blessing, and a curse. We begin, over time, to take on characteristics of those we are tied to if we are operating on the highest level, such as I am now, and the humans lose memories either way. Speaking of, you seem to have forgotten a meeting that you have agreed to._

Nida cursed, immediately calling for the lights to go out before storming from the room. It was just a few strides to his office, but already personal comm was ringing, calling for his attention.

“Yes?” he asked even as he flipped the comm device open.

“Sir, the enemy commander has requested to speak with you,” a voice only passingly familiar from the bridge said.

“Of course. I'll take it in my office. Keep him on hold for two minutes before putting him through.”

“Yes Sir.”

It wasn't much time, but it was enough for Nida to slip into his office, smooth his uniform, and settle into his seat. When the chime came from his display to indicate that they were transferring the control to him, Nida was as ready as he thought he would ever be. When his screen came alive with Vernon's face, Nida gave a curt nod and tried hard not to grit his teeth as he spoke.

“Well then, shall we figure out the best way to keep our men alive?”


	36. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holidays and a job ate my life. I'm back, though, and we're going to keep moving on this story. I won't bore you with details. I bet we'd all prefer it if I was just working on this.

“The best way for us to keep our men alive, Nomura, is for you to stand down.”

“I think we've gone over that already,” Nida sighed, shaking his head. “I can't do that. Unlike you, a substantial portion of my forces aren't men. These are teens and some could barely be called that, all of them under my command because that is all what Garden has to offer. I haven't even had the chance to take on my first load of real soldiers. They're little more than kids. And when I say kids, Vernon, I'm not joking around. I'm running on a skeleton crew of some kids that don't even have SeeD credentials, civilians from Fisherman's Horizon, and a few others who would only really begin to be counted of age in the other countries. And you know what? Any of them would die to stop this war we're in. They believe in it, just like your men. The question is, I suppose, can we take you down before you damage us badly enough and take out enough people to stop the Ragnarok from flying?”

“And what do you think the answer to that is?” Vernon asked, seeming genuinely curious, if a little sad at Nida's revelation.

“The truth, Vernon? Some people don't want to hear it, no matter what they say.”

“The truth, boy. I can handle whatever news you'd give me.”

“Then the truth is this: I can fly this ship on my own. I only need one other person to handle the weaponry, and that only if I'm not planning to ram my ship right down your gullet. Were I to choose to rely on that one person and the weapons—which I promise are an upgrade from what you would have been briefed about—I would make you pay dearly for what you'd taken from me. So can we put aside this petty posturing for just a few minutes and talk seriously, like men?”

“Men?” Vernon laughed, but it was a short, barking, bitter kind of sound. “Let's be fair here, Nida. This isn't a conversation among men. You're, what, somewhere around 18 or 19, right? Hardly fit to call yourself a man. You are a child leading an army of children, just like your superiors. How can you expect to...”

“I've killed thirty-seven men in less than two years,” Nida cut in. The way the number rolled off of his tongue so smoothly, so damned easily only made him realize that he really had been keeping count. Of all of the things in his life he could keep track of, why did it have to be that?

“At least, those are the ones I've killed with my own weapon in my hands, which is quite hefty for such a short period and me lacking a gun. Some of them were mercenaries attacking little villages that I was sent to protect as part of a mission. Others were Galbadian soldiers during various parts of the Second Sorceress War. A handful were people I had grown up knowing, who had threatened children and the chain of command during the conflict within Garden, and I killed them without a second thought. This number includes the men under Ruth's command who attacked my home. It includes Joshua, who attempted to kill me. And it includes Elijah, who was more than just my friend Vernon, and you probably know that. What it doesn't include is the number of people whose lives may have been lost through my actions as the pilot of Balamb Garden during the war, the children who died to Elijah's blade in Balamb, or the men and women I failed to save at Haven, or those who are dead because of those I helped train to kill. So tell me this, Vernon. When you know all of that, when you look at it in the light of me being the tender age of 19, in light of the fact that I have been given the rank of a three star general and told to go to lead in a time of war, do you really think I'm not yet a man? Am I not a man when every night before I go to sleep when I remember the faces of every last man, woman, and child I've seen dead by my own hands?”

That seemed to shut Vernon up for a moment, his face lined with confusion and sorrow at the information Nida offered.

“I am sorry for what you have had to experience in your life,” he said at last, and he sounded quite sincere. “It is a cruel world when some would turn our children into our soldiers.”

 _Seventy-one,_ a voice, Salamander's, echoed in Nida's head. For half a moment he almost didn't know just what the GF meant, and then it hit him far too hard. Elijah's own death count.

“Some? No, Vernon, you know better than that. Elijah in only three years was responsible for the death of seventy-one. He was a very competent SeeD, often in the thick of the fighting where I was not. Do you know why he killed so many? Because Boyce sent him to become a soldier, and commanded him to take lives. I can't even begin to guess at the numbers Xu or Joshua could lay claim to, and I'm pretty sure they regretted their kills far less than I do. It isn't that Gardens put weapons into the hands of children. It's that the Gardens are, time and time again, put into conflicts on a scale we were never meant for. We aren't supposed to be used primarily as anti-personnel troops. I chose to specialize in infiltration. I was going to live my life breaking into the ranks of people who did cruel things, get what information I could to destroy them, and get out. It's not the most common route, and only for those that pass some very serious psyche evals. Elijah, though, do you even know what he opted to specialize in?”

“I'm afraid I don't,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Boyce was the one that took the most interest in the younger three members of our council.”

“Elijah's primary training was in dispatching the most dangerous of monsters. I spent hours with him one night discussing the finer points of a mission of his to take down a group of ochus migrating into a populated area. He knew the weakest points of some of the most deadly creatures that walk our world, and knew how to get himself into place to strike them. Unfortunately the same things that make a fighter talented against the largest, smartest game also make them talented against far smaller, sometimes smarter human opponents. It meant in a pinch he was right in the thick of a fight against multiple people. That he would throw himself, alone, at a sniper perch or a mounted machine gun to try and clear the way for others. Elijah hated death, Vernon. What Boyce is driving your people to is something he could never abide.”

“Nida, forgive me, but you ask me to believe all of this with no basis. I am aware that you were... closer with Elijah Zale than was openly admitted to among many parties. I expect most of those you call your allies and who serve under you were not aware of the full extent of your relationship, but I find myself hesitating to believe everything you say. What could you offer me as proof?”

 _And here is where I come in, yes?_ Salamander asked, sounding almost tired.

_Where else? No, please, I can sense that you're gearing up for a lecture. I can't afford it right now._

_Ask him if he has been properly polishing the carving. Linseed oil, not anything else._

Nida sent half of an annoyed feeling through the connection he shared with the GF, almost frustrated that Salamander was actively ignoring his need for information. Still, even that vague bit should hopefully be enough to assure Vernon. He hoped. But at least there was one thing he could be sure of: he had his own information sources that could help flesh out the description.

“You've been polishing your carving, yes? Linseed oil, not anything else. I can speak from experience that substituting another oil is unpleasant.”

The look on Vernon's face was somewhere between baffled and amused. He recovered quickly, though, his expression hardening once more as he shook his head.

“You think that is enough to convince me of...”

“It's a start, one that goes well with this information: after his death he had his journal sent to me. Maybe you weren't aware of it, but he had been keeping one since he came to Garden. It is more than just the musings of a kid. It's his plans. His visions. The places he wanted to lead your people. The life he wanted to live. And what Boyce cost him. He sent it to me, Vernon, because I was going to try and help him. I wanted him free of what Boyce can do to your people. He...”

 _He put it into the hands of his second-in-command, Jason Anders, the night before his death. With orders to send it to you were something to happen to him. Tell him to ask Anders,_ Salamander commanded him, the words a fire in his head even as it felt like the metal that housed the GF was burning its way into his chest.

“Do you know a man named Jason Anders?”

“Yes, and obviously you do as well. He was Elijah's second. What does that have to do with anything?”

“The night before his death, the night he went to meet with the council and Boyce likely gave him orders not to return to me, Elijah put the journal into the hands of Jason Anders. He ordered Jason to send the journal to me if something happened. Elijah knew something was going to happen. He...” Nida didn't know what to say, or how to continue. This wasn't a topic he wanted to think about, a card he wanted to play, a pain he wanted to relive.

 _All pain passes in time, my dove,_ Siren cooed in his head. _Let me..._

 _No,_ he snapped back, his head almost aching under the force of Salamander's agreement.

“He spoke of you once.”

Nida found himself looking up at the monitor again—when had he lowered his gaze—and into Vernon's eyes. Pity, too much pity, filled his eyes.

“What?”

“Elijah spoke of you once. Two years ago. It was during a short gathering of the council, when the three younger members were officially inducted to our number. Well, it was after the meeting to be honest. Xu, Joshua, they were never much of ones for talking to me. Xu was always Boyce's creature and Joshua... was more extreme than I would have liked. But Elijah... He was a kind one, more open to new ideas, to so many things. Friendly even. I was proud to hear him, to speak with him. He was going to lead us in a new direction. I swore myself to him that day, to be his supporter, to help guide him. And he smiled, insisted that that day was far away but he'd rely on me. And then he told me about someone he'd met at Garden and how he wasn't even sure how to bring it up to Boyce, how disappointed his uncle would be if he learned the bloodline would end with him.

“He was a good kid, Nida. He wanted to change things, and I wanted to stand by him.”

“So stand by me then. Stand by me now. Neither of us wants this. Irvine will not stand by Boyce, no matter what happens. Nor will I. His goals are doomed. Don't throw yourselves away like this. Stand by me, stand by us, and help guide your people in the direction that Elijah would have wanted. That we both know he wanted. Please...”

“I can't.”

The words were slow in coming, and pained, unbelievably pained. It was plain in his voice, to the point where Nida didn't even need Siren's gifts to notice it. It was written on his face, etched there even. Almost as if the very saying of it was actually physically painful. And to Nida it meant only one thing.

“You've been ordered to stop me.”

“I have,” Vernon confirmed, apologetic.

“More than ordered. Compelled.”

“Yes.”

“There is nothing I can do right now to make you stand down.”

“No.”

There was a sound, a loud and furious thump that was punctuated by the rattling of glass. It was only with the flaring of pain in his fingers that Nida even realized that he had made the sound. Now that he was looking he could see it, a minor dent in the metal of his desk. Part of him, a bemused part that was trying desperately hard to distance itself from what was going on, quietly observed that he really needed to stop punching things. The last time he'd cut his hand up rather badly, and this time he could easily have broken a bone or two, not that was sure he hadn't. Another part could do nothing but fume at the news. How could Boyce have done this? Didn't he realize that he was throwing the lives of people who looked up to him, looked to him for guidance, away? Could they really mean so little to him?

“Then why would you even agree to talk to me?” he asked, needing to understand the futility here.

“I believed in Elijah,” Vernon said, shaking his head. “I believed in what he wanted for our people. I wanted you to know that.”

“That isn't enough,” Nida insisted, wanting to slam his fist into the desk once more. “You and I both know it isn't enough.”

“I need you to ask a question I couldn't get you to ask otherwise.”

“Whether you'd back down.”

“Yes,” Vernon agreed. “That isn't something that either of our crews need to know. And I need your promise...”

“To take the surrender if you die.”

“Don't hold my orders against them.”

“And how do I know it would even come?”

“You don't. You can't. All we can do is hope.”

As if Nida believed in such a thing anymore. “I'll do what ever I can to protect them. That is all I can promise.”

“Thank you. And Nida... There was one more thing I wanted to tell you.”

“What?” Because what he needed is another unsolvable problem set before him.

“I don't think anyone has ever told you this, or that anyone's ever been in the position to. I think your mother would have been proud of you. Of what you've grown up to be. For all of the pain, the suffering, the sorrow that you've lived through, she still would have been proud.”

“You knew Daphne?”

“No,” Vernon said, smiling sadly. “I've never met her. Nida, I was the one who realized who you had to be. I didn't say anything to Elijah at the time, but two years ago when Elijah showed me your picture, I knew you. You have your mother's eyes, but your father's...”

All it took was a single push of a button for the screen to go black, for the speakers to go silent, for the words to stop happening. Yet after he did it almost felt like he'd spent the last several hours trying to push the Ragnarok across the sea.

* * * * * *

It took all of ten seconds for Fujin to get through the door. Nida honestly wasn't sure which was more suspicious, the fact that it took her all of ten seconds or that she was in position at all to do it. Had she, had someone who was in contact with her, been monitoring his communication. Now wouldn't that be something? Someone sitting on the side lines hearing everything that was said. How would they have taken it all, because he was pretty sure their only option was to take it better than he had. Was there even a way to take it worse?

“WHAT?” Fujin demanded even as she was slipping past the only partially opened door.

“I don't seem to remember calling you in here. In fact, I distinctly remember placing you in control of the bridge. So what on Hyne's green earth are you doing here?”

By that point the door had closed and Fujin was striding quickly, almost nervously, towards the desk. It didn't take much to tell that she didn't like what she saw there, not with the way her eye lingered on his bleeding fist. Great, just what he needed on top of everything else.

“You wanted informed if something started to happen. We've read increased temperatures in...”

“The main cannons, yes, I suppose you would have,” he said, sighing and pushing back from the desk. “I need us put on full alert. Make sure the weaponry systems that are online are ready to go. We've got a fight ahead of us.”

“FAILURE?”

Nida just shook his head, utterly tired. “There was never a chance of success. He has his orders. We have our own. Now get back to yours.”

“NIDA.”

“What could possibly be more important than the fact that we're about to be attacked by a ship that we don't know the full capabilities for, by fanatics who will likely try to take us down to the very last man, with a crew that is no where near ready to deal with this sort of conflict?”

“CURE.”

Again he looked down at his fist, noticed the blood on his hand. Yeah, she was right about that. What kind of confidence was he going to inspire like this? All it took was a the slightest brush of a cure spell, the simplest sort of para-magic, to seal the small cuts, hide the bruises, and be presentable. Yet when he reached for the magic, it almost felt like it was hovering just beyond his reach. Apparently things could get worse. For years he'd heard Instructor Aki warn them about what severe emotional trauma could do to a para-magic user. It was for that reason and that reason alone that SeeD candidates worked so hard on emotionally distancing themselves from their missions. It was that, not that they were cold or careless or inhuman. In a pinch they might need their magic to save their lives and possibly those of others. And when he stood, slowly, still staring down his fist, he had to fight the urge to laugh. It was hysteria, threatening his already frayed mental state. Aki had always told him that he'd never amount to anything magically, and for once Nida was starting to believe him.

“I can't,” he said, holding out his hand towards her. “Amazing, isn't it? After everything, this is the moment where I can't...”

There was no need to say anything else, after all, Fujin had taken the classes as well. In fact, she had been one of the top students in the class. She always had a talent for para-magic, not quiet on the level that Nida learned Sephie or Quistis did, but she had a talent. Even now he could see her reaching forth, her hand glowing with the faint blue-green light of curative magic. She reached out, her fingers brushed over his wrist, and with it came the weird cool-hot tingling of a cure spell. He could feel the itching of his flesh knitting together. Then, as quickly as it came, the touch of both her skin and the magic were gone. He was left looking at his bloody knuckles, which he immediately moved to wipe off on a piece of paper on his desk.

“We don't have time for this,” she said, voice barely a whisper.

Truer words had never been said.

“We need to be on the bridge. There's a storm coming, and we've got to get through it.”

He pushed past her then, heading for the door, and trying his hardest to ignore the burning pain from Salamander's charm. His hand was even at the button to open the door when she spoke up again, forcing him to stop in his tracks.

“What happened?”

“The Zebalgan leader over there, Vernon... He knew my parents.”

With that he hit the button and slipped through the door, striding as quickly as he could towards the lift. He was barely even halfway down the corridor before Fujin was at his side, all steel and discipline once again. It was almost as if she could flip a switch in her head, go from an ideal soldier to a soft spoken, considerate woman, and back so quickly that it could make his head spin. How did someone get that ability? What class had he missed that would have allowed him to go from unsure to confident so quickly? Or was it a talent that she was simply born with? Did it come from years of following Seifer, of having so much confidence in his ability to see things through that she just assumed that Nida could do the same? Had Seifer told her to be confident in...

“You can handle this.”

Her words were a whisper so low that for a moment Nida almost wondered if he imagined them, of if they had been Sirens. But no, there was no mistaking the source once he put his mind to it. She believed in him. There was a pretty good chance that most of the people here believed in him. The problem was that Nida wasn't sure that he believed in himself, for all that he had claimed confidence before Vernon. Sure, he could handle the ship alone, like he had claimed, but...

But, but, but. It was always something, wasn't it? Why did it always have to be something? What happened to them living 'happily ever after' when the war was over? Sure, not 'happily' as it were, they were still mercs, he was still planning to put his life into danger repeatedly for other people. The thing was that he'd never intended anyone else to get hurt by his actions. Never expected people to look up at him, never wanted them to. Recognition, yes. Respect, definitely. Responsibility over other lives... Not really.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, stepping confidently up to the bulkhead, pausing just long enough for the SeeD guard to open the door for them. Then it was around the corner, a few more steps, onto the lift, and riding up, Fujin at full-attention at his side.

At the top of the lift, even as it shuddered to a halt, the crimson lights and sirens erupted into a furious life. It was almost ideal, it saved Nida the annoyance of the bridge crew standing as one and saluting. In a situation such as this their duties came before the respect due their superiors. Right now what he needed were people who was leaping to their duties, making sure that they survived this encounter.

“Sir,” Raijin said, all but leaping from the command chair. At least Fujin had left someone in charge. “We've got...”

“I know,” Nida cut him off, striding further into the room. He didn't need to say anything more than that. People were already about their jobs, and if there was any change at all it was that they were moving a bit faster, and Nida chalked it up to Fujin's presence and nothing else. Still, when he reached his seat he came to a stop, gave Fujin a small gesture, and then straightened himself up.

A whistle, sharp enough to be heard and to cut easily through the sound of the sirens, drew all attention to him. Nida almost wanted to smile at the sound: if there was any advantage to having drawn Fujin as his second it was the fact that she could bring everyone and everything to silence by intimidation alone. It helped him do what had to be done right now. Helped him get all eyes on him.

“I know that one of the first rules of leading a military force during a war is never to apologize. Apologies come later, when things have been won, or at least when we think they've been won. And yet I find myself compelled to apologize to you all. I did my best, I tried to resolve this peacefully. I failed you there. Now I ask that you don't fail me here. We're faced with an opponent that we don't know the full capabilities of, and we don't know if they'll surrender. That being said, we aren't going to back down. Too much is riding on us. Family, friends, people we have come to care about and depend on. Now let's get back to work.”

No applause this time, just nods, salutes, and people turning back to their jobs. Nida himself just sat down in his chair, pulled his display up, and started to evaluate what was going on. The answer was clear quite soon. Rather than maintaining the distance they'd both agreed to, the Zebalgan vessel was slowly circling around towards them. That was the least of the concerns, though. The readouts that he was seeing reinforced what Fujin had told him: the Zebalgan vessel was really gearing up its main cannon. It was a slow build, but Nida was pretty sure that was deliberate. Getting it up faster wasn't too hard, Esthar had achieved it long ago in the Ragnarok, but at least Vernon had given him a chance. Given them a chance to be ready to fight. Vernon had known what the cost was, that he was likely risking the lives of his people, but he'd still done it.

“What's the status on the weapon systems?”

“Eighty percent weapon system operability. Should be enough, ya know?”

Nida nodded and waved Raijin away. With a few quick button presses he was sending the machines through their paces, getting them to spew out calculation after calculation after calculation that didn't tell him anything new. There wasn't enough data, the Ragnarok had seen so little combat before, and the enemy wouldn't surrender unless their leader was knocked out. What was he going to do if...

_Look closely, little hawk. See what they don't know want you to notice._

“SIR?” Fujin demanded, moving to stand at his elbow.

“Give me a moment,” Nida said, waving her off even as he leaned closer to the display.

 _What is it I'm missing, then?_ Nida asked, turning the full of his attention to the screen even as he directed the display to call up the real time images of the enemy vessel. _Hyne help me, Siren, I don't even know what I'm looking for._

 _Closer_ , she insisted, and Nida jabbed his thumb at the zoom option several times. _Closer._ Still more jabbing. _There. Behind that bump thingy._

 _It's called an exhaust port,_ he sighed, zooming again. But now that he was looking, he could see what she meant. There was something... strange about the port. For one thing, it was poorly placed. For another it was...

“It's an exhaust port for the weapons manifold,” he said, far louder than he expected. “Hyne damn them. It's an exhaust port. Their systems are so slow gearing up because Vernon has them venting wrong. He's purging the systems to give us time. Damn him. Damn him doesn't he know how hard this is as things already stand?”

“GENERAL?”

“I want a missile rammed into that exhaust port at our first opportunity. If we manage that we can overheat their systems. Their weapons manifold would all but collapse in on itself. We could force them to back down...”

Silence, save for the sirens. Then, even as he looked up from the display, there was a new flurry of action. Raijin shouting orders that were being quickly relayed through headsets to the engineers and mechanics down in the hold. Displays writing up orders to scramble the few fighters they could both launch and land back on the Ragnarok. Someone running for the lift to relay orders for a breaching squad to be prepared in case they managed to force the enemy vessel to the ground. And there was Nida, sitting in his chair, not fully sure what to do with himself.

_You are a leader, whether you believe it or not. Such is in your blood. Step up and take charge. Make them know who you are. Make them respect you. And shed as little blood as possible._

“Who's our best hacker?” Nida asked, pushing his display aside.

“Sir?” Raijin asked, frowning pretty hard.

“I asked who our best hacker was. I know General Leonhart assigned me a few. I want to know who the best is.”

Raijin spent a moment looking utterly bemused. Fujin, though, just moved. She was across the bridge in two strides, her hand on the shoulder of a young woman at a display, and with a flick of her wrist the chair was spinning, and an utterly shocked young woman who looked about sixteen at best was left staring up at Fujin with wide eyes.

“Colonel, Ma'am?” the girl asked, her voice barely squeaking out over the sirens. Or maybe it wasn't, maybe it was just Siren working her magic and pulling the words through the air to him. Why was he still junctioned with her? No, that wasn't the important thing, not with this girl looking so shocked at Fujin, and Fujin looking so proud of herself.

“Colonel Venti?”

“HER.”

“You're sure?”

Fujin just nodded, tightened her grip on the girl's shoulder, and hauled her to her feet.

“Name and rank.”

The girl stumbled a few steps forward, propelled by Fujin's hand pressing hard against her back. As Nida looked her over, reading all the little signs. She wasn't a career SeeD, that was for sure. Just a cadet, if her Airman First Class patch was any real sign. The look about her was nervous energy. She was scared, that much was sure, but if Fujin believed this was what he needed... He'd believe her. After all, Fujin had been the one that had spent so much time going over crew records. Nida had devoted himself to the retrofitting.

“Air... Airman First Class Russell, Sir.” the girl said nervously, and all he wanted to do was smile at her kindly to push away the fear. But it wasn't how this worked. Wasn't how this was allowed to work.

“You know computers, Airman?”

“Sir yes sir.”

“What experience do you have?”

“She's the one who cracked the Garden forums two years back,” Raijin offered, frowning. “Three weeks suspended privileges, managed to avoid...”

“I remember,” Nida said, waving Raijin off. “Tell me, Airman Russell, are you still in practice?”

“Sir?”

“I asked you whether you are still in practice, Airman. I expect a response.”

“Sir yes sir!”

Nida nodded and leaned back in his chair, like he thought Squall might have in his position. “Good. I need you into their systems. I want control over their OA system. I want to have my voice heard in every damn repair rafter of that craft. And I want it to happen ten minutes ago.”

“But...”

“Say 'yes sir.'”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now get to it.”

Turned to all but flee back to her seat, but Nida gestured and Fujin moved to intercept her.

“Take mine,” Nida said, standing. “You won't have to override our internal security servers from this one. It should save you, what, five minutes?”

“Three at most,” she said, almost smirking. Well, if thinking she was better than him—if she was better than him—made her more confident, then he wasn't going to burst her bubble.

“And her position?” Raijin asked. Nida just strode past him for the flight controls. It took nothing more than a light tap on the shoulder of the current pilot.

“Let's get this done.”


	37. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days we'll finish this. Hopefully soon. I'd like to announce that I've set myself on a new writing schedule that will have me bringing you chapters whenever I finish them. Hopefully at least one a week. Maybe two. We're doing this. We are making this end. I DESPERATELY want this done before 6/27/13, the 4 year anniversary of its start.

What they don't tell you in school is that a lot of war is posturing, jockeying for position, and waiting. More waiting than anyone was really willing to admit to. Yeah, there was a lot of action in the course of a battle. But that, that was quick, painful, and confusing. And it came after more waiting than was really imaginable, especially when one was dealing with airships. The whole point was to get into the best position so that the enemy won't be able to take you down before you can take them down. Fights in the sky were about evasion, speed and maneuverability. Doubly so when you were trying not to kill everyone on the other ship. 

It was situations like these that Nida knew he couldn't trust to the relatively inexperienced crew. Not that he didn't want to, just that he knew there was really only one way to handle this in the way that it had to be handled. They hadn't worked with the Rag before, not solo, they weren't all junctioned in such a way that their senses were better, or to have the kind of reaction speed that was inhuman and would cost him for using later. Those were the kind of things he needed, that he could only count on in part from Fujin—who didn't know how to fly this thing—and it was only like this that he was going to manage to keep from killing everyone. Even with the weapon systems that they had, hitting the weapon venting system without bringing that ship down was going to be quite a task. Better if something were to go wrong if a portion of the blame would be on himself. Never ask your crew to do something you wouldn't do yourself, right?

When the moment comes it's sudden, it's unexpected, and there isn't time to say very much at all. A quick boost from the auxiliary thrusters practically turning the Ragnarok on a dime—okay maybe a hill, but that was still pretty impressive for the size of the thing—and facing the dragon ship perfectly on the flank where the vent was slowly dumping the heat buildup of the main cannon. A simple gesture: all it takes for the order to be relayed, for the volley of targeted missiles to launch. A long breath: the time it takes for the missiles to drop free of their cradles on the wings, for boosters to flicker to life, for them to close the distance and slam with a firestorm in the area of the weapon exhaust of the enemy vessel. The blink of an eye: all it takes to truly end the battle. In a minute at most ten minutes of circling, battling for the air, scrambling for position, is over. Victory to the Ragnarok.

“General!” Airman First Class Russell calls from Nida's console, “I've gotten through. The air waves are yours.”

Another moment to switch positions with the other pilot, not to mention an admonition to keep themselves out of any sort of ramming position from the enemy, and then he's in his chair, not even thanking Russell. Why should he, she'd only done her job. There would be time for commendations later, when lives weren't relying on what he was doing here and now. 

_Good luck,_ Salamander's burning whisper in his ears as Nida hit the command to transmit that Russell had so kindly left up for him. 

“Attention enemy vessel, this is Lieutenant General Nida Nomur of the Allied Military's Air Force's Ragnarok II. That blast you just felt was us taking out half of your weapons exhaust system for your main cannon. I expect that at this point there are not only fires for you to deal with but the fear that your cannon will overload, leaving the possibility of explosion. I suggest, no, demand that for the sake of all parties you power down your weapons systems and surrender. You will be escorted to an Allied Forces controlled air field, where you will be directed to land and turn yourselves over to our forces. This is a very reasonable solution to our problems. Our other option is to blow you out of the sky, and I will not hesitate to do so if you continue to display aggressive intentions. If you do this I can promise your continued safety and health until such time as the war is over and you have agreed to conduct befitting responsible members of modern society.

“I would continue by informing you that after discussion with your commander he has been given express orders not to surrender by Boyce Megill. This man you would look to as a leader cares nothing for the value of your lives, and would sooner see me destroy every last man and woman on board rather than share peace with us. There is no allowance for your commander to surrender, and if it is only his inability to submit that prevents you from taking my offer, I would direct you to take him into custody and see to his safe holding during our interaction. You have five minutes to come to your decision and relay your response to the Ragnarok through the normal hailing frequencies. If by the end of this period there has been no response or a negative response is given, we shall have no choice but to open fire upon your vessel. And I promise you that what we have demonstrated so far is but a small portion of the capabilities of the Ragnarok. I would strongly urge you to submit your peaceful surrender post haste.”

With that he jabbed the button to close communications and sat back in his seat. It was only then that he took a chance to look around the bridge, to see the combination of shock, denial, even disgust in the eyes of his crew. Sure, there were a few cases of a stray youth nodding in agreement with his words, but most of them had looks of stunned awe or fear. Well, there was nothing he could do about that but command their respect and allegiance, understanding was something that would come later, or never not that it mattered. They had no say and he doubted any of them would try to reject his orders at any point. If nothing else they'd seen enough of war in the last year to know that what he did had a reason, even if they could not fathom it. 

The problem was that he could. Nida was almost certain of what was going to happen over there. It really only came down to a few choices, didn't it? They agreed, they agreed after some pretty severe internal conflict that Nida would be blamed for, they rejected, they rejected after some internal conflict, or there was no answer. Three of the cases meant that he had to carry out his threat. One meant he didn't but he still had more blood spilled on his hands. Only one was relatively clean, not that he thought it was likely. What was the chance of Megill giving such orders to Vernon and not his direct subordinates? In Megill's position Nida had to admit he'd do the same. Fight to the last man if at all possible, damn the results. 

No, that wasn't how he'd handle it at all, Nida realized. He wasn't cut out for that kind of thing. He wasn't Megill, he wasn't even Seifer or Squall who knew what it was like to order people to their deaths. Didn't want to know what it was like. And yet here he was, doing it anyway. 

“Sir...” a voice came, Nida wasn't sure whose, and he sat up straighter in his chair. 

“An answer already?” Well, there was a relief. Or not. At least one way or the other he was sure there hadn't been too much bloodshed within the enemy vessel. Now the question was whether he was going to have casualties or prisoners on his hands.

“N-no Sir,” the voice responded, and all he could do was search for it. Ah, there just short of the pilot, one of the sensor operators. This... wasn't going to be good news.

_The attempt is the hard part of the battle. The rejection, harder,_ Salamander observed, sadly. 

_No good can come of this,_ Siren quickly agreed. And suddenly Nida almost felt like his whole head was wrapped in a flimsy cloud, padding his mind from all hurts. It did nothing to impair his thoughts, but it took the painful edge off of them. Hell, it took any edge off of them; rendered him down to nothing but cold, cruel, calculating logic.

“They're attempting to power up their main cannons despite the damages. The energy and heat buildups are rising quickly. Sir, it seems likely that they've overridden the safety parameters on the system and intend to blow it. At this range there is an estimated sixty percent chance of severe damage to the Ragnarok, including irreparable damage to our flight systems. They're also increasing power to their engines...”

“They're trying to take us with them,” Raijin observed, rather pointlessly. Nida already understood that point. If he tried to run the enemy would give chase. Not that they could likely catch the Rag, but they could get lined up for a shot from those cannons, or in a position to crash into a populated area. Unless Nida took them out for a merry chase over the sea, not that he could be sure they would follow. Stay and he put everyone at risk, not to mention allowed the Zebalgans the chance to try and ram into them. 

“We aren't going to allow that,” Nida said his voice so cold that in another time and place he might have thought it was Squall sitting here in his place, rather than the self he was so familiar with. “Well, I suppose they've given us their answer then. Very well, take us up, pilot.”

“Up, Sir?”

“Directly, as fast as you can manage. Colonel, I want a level three alert through the ship. All gear possible should be stowed immediately followed by securing themselves for a dive. All bridge crew are to secure themselves while going about their duties...”

“SIR...” Fujin confirmed, though that was an edge of question about it. He could understand that, in her place he might agree, might question what he was up to. But he wasn't in her place, couldn't afford seeming unsure. 

“That was an order. Get to it. All hands are to prepare for a tactical descent.”

That, more than anything else, got them scrambling. Fujin in one of the extra seats in the rear of the bridge even as she was shouting orders and keying commands into a data pad. Extra personnel were already scrambling down the ladder into the core of the ship, the lift long since locked into place when the sirens had started up. Nida did what little he needed to by engaging the locks on the swiveling arms of his display and then putting on his restraints to keep him in the seat for what came next. Because there was no doubting they would need it. After all, they were talking about a nose dive right into the thick of the enemy vessel. 

All around him the sirens were taking on another tone of warning as the Ragnarok began its seemingly lazy, circling ascent further into the sky. From his seat everything would be orchestrated, all of the readings coming together so he could best judge when they were to turn around and start. There was a nervous edge about the entire crew; they'd been briefed on the possibilities of this particular maneuver but none of them, not even Nida, had been through it before. Sure, he'd tried similar things in fighter training, rising into the heavens to turn around, throw himself at the ground at a speed that neared the margins of what people could handle before blacking out, shooting off missiles in hopes of weakening the enemy vessel to the point where it blew before he would have slammed into it. Not that the Rag was going to do quite that. This was, after all, theoretical. Already Nida could see readings that meant one of his crew was testing the claw joints on the front of the ship. The 'arms' of the Ragnarok would be fully extended during the descent, the 'claws' becoming fists to hopefully punch through the missile-weakened structure. It was all they could do to minimize the risk, and while Nida was comfortable with the price that might mean on both sides he was pretty sure that was only because of the foggy feelings in his head. 

Calmly he removed a headset from the arm of his seat and fitted it in place, knowing that he'd never be able to be heard over the din of the sirens that was telling his crew to lock down dangerous items and secure themselves. The second he had it on he was almost bombarded with a frenzy of talk from the bridge crew that already had theirs in place, chattering back and forth the readings that would guide them through the process. One assuring the others that the arms were ready for such an attack, another commenting on the preparations of a full flight of missiles and the build up of energy in the main canon. A third was commenting on the rising speed and altitude of the ship. And there, in the back, certainly audible to only him, was Fujin. 

“Are you sure this is the right thing to be doing.”

_It's the only thing,_ Salamander assured him.

“No,” Nida admitted to himself, Fujin and the GF. “But it's all we've got.”

That seemed to satisfy both of them, for Nida was soon left in relative peace, for all that there were still voices calling to each other in both of his ears. No, Fujin and the GF, the ones that knew could draw his attention in the wrong direction with their voices, remained silent, allowing Nida to dedicate himself to the information being said and flying across his display. It was only Siren that stayed active, stayed present at his side so to speak, picking out the bits of information she knew from experience that he'd need, feeding them back to him whenever he asked or just increasing his awareness of them when he needed it. 

Then they're there, too soon, far too soon for his taste, and with the push of a command button the alarm changes completely, goes to a quiet whisper in the background because no one wants to hear it as a countdown, no one wants to know, wants to be distracted, wants to think about what they are doing. It's the signal, awaited, feared, needed, to start what is coming. 

It's not a straight dive, such a thing would stall out the engines as surely as it would any other aircraft. No, it's angled because they can't afford such a risk, and because the Zebalgan ship didn't know what to make of their ascent and so took it as a sign of fleeing. They're angled back for land, not that they have a chance of seeing it again. So it begins, the fall that if they don't pull out of in time will find the Rag smashed to pieces on the surface of the ocean, but will first ram them into the enemy vessel. Nida can almost hear the moment when that occurs to the crew, when everything goes silent but the continued reading off of altitude that is dropping far too swiftly for the comfort of much of the crew. 

The barrage begins at the push of another button. Missile after missile launching as the blast screens come down over the cockpit, the retort of machine guns in the open claws of the arms screaming in the air. The high pitched, almost painful whirring of the main cannon coming to full power, and the roar of the energy being released. It all starts to hit at the same time, in the same area, and on screens all over the ship the damage is visible. Vast explosions rippling across the strained back of the Zebalgan vessel, the fires and glowing hot edges of the metal of the ship begging for the eye's attention. Then the whole screen blacking out for all but a select few as Nida hits a command, spares his crew from having to see the way that the arms are coming forward now, the claws closing into fists of a size unrivaled in the world, with a force behind them that no one has dared to compare to before. Closing, still closing, and they burst into and out of a stream of smoke, the Zebalgan ship filling up his monitor. 

Nida doesn't hold his breath, doesn't blink, just stares at the screen. There is no other choice. The secondary piloting controls have already sprung out of his seat's side consoles. The pilot can't bring them off of this course now, only the captain of the Ragnarok. This wasn't meant to be a game of chicken, it was something always meant to be a final blow for one side or the other or maybe even both. And ending. No one should be able to take it back for fear. Then again it meant that only he would have the chance to pull them out of their potentially fatal fall. It was his duty, his responsibility, to see all the lives on board safely through this. 

When it happens it's with a scream and a shaking through the whole ship that almost feels like an earthquake, or maybe the end of the world. He isn't sure, he's been through things that resembled both of those in the last year, and can't quite put his finger on which it's more like. His screen goes dead, blacked out from the camera probably being destroyed in the contact. All he's got left now is readouts to fly by, and a gut instinct that isn't really useful in this sort of situation. Two heart beats, it's all he can confidently afford, before he's hauling on the controls with all of the GF infused force that he can manage, struggling to even them out despite the fact that they are falling at unbelievable speeds, the they are likely tangled into or trapped under falling debris. But somehow, miraculously, the readouts on the ships orientation are starting to level out. The altitude is dropping less rapidly, then not at all, then it's climbing. The ship is still shaking, the world around them roaring in protest as one of the rear camera displays flicker into life on his display. It tells him nothing of what it's like in front of them, of the damages, of anything but the fireball that he's managed to leave just far enough behind them, and all around it pieces of metal plummeting to the sea. Even as he gains height and distance the explosions start: the engine and main cannon of the enemy vessel going critical from the strain and rendering the largest hunks of debris into what will ultimately be little more than car sized chunks or smaller when they hit the sea. It will take months to dredge it all up, to clean up the wreckage and sorrow and misery this moment will bring so many, and to himself Nida swears that he'll see to as much of it as possible personally. Only right for the Rag and its commander to be caught up in what they destroyed, long after its fall. 

“Sir,” a voice came at last, Fujin's, in his ear. 

“Raise the blast screens,” he said, commanded and his voice boomed in the silence of the cockpit. “I want recovery troops prepped and ready to go in three minutes. Everything we got into recovering whatever surviving personnel possible. We've got...”

“I got it Sir, ya know?” Raijin said, leaping out of his chair. 

“And I need a message...” 

“SIR!” Fujin declared, her voice making him jump seeing as it came from his elbow. 

“Yes, Colonel?”

Quieter, softer, plainly she leaned down to whisper in his ear, “We both know this isn't the place for you right now. Go, help Raijin. Then you are to relax until we hit Trabia. Greet the troops, get things settled, and go the fuck back to relaxing.”

She was right. There was no doubt that she was right. Too much had happened in too little time. Already today he'd dealt with Seifer being foisted on him, an assassination attempt, being faced with Vernon, and now this... With a sigh he pushed himself from the seat and cleared his throat. Attention was instantly on him. 

“Colonel Venti is in command. Figure out what damages we have and see to deploying the engineers and mechanics to deal with whatever we can from inside. The rest will wait for Trabia or Galbadia.” 

With that he stood, turned on one heel, and strode to the lift. It was already returning after Raijin's descent and in no time at all he was striding into the hanger, where a variety of fliers were being rigged with nets to deploy life preservers which the troop carrier could grab up with hooks on ropes. There may not be many survivors, but Nida intended to save as many as he could. 

“Well, well, well, look who's come down. The hero of the hour!” 

“Shut up, Almasy,” Nida said, more by reflex than anything else. It even took him another two strides before he came to a stop and the voice really registered with him. 

Which, of course, only resulted in laughter from Seifer as he came from wherever he was to slap Nida on the shoulder and shake his head, smirking all the while. The blond took a moment to circle Nida, the smirk still overwhelmingly present. 

“What do you want, Almasy?” 

“Tell me about the assassination attempt. About standing above a body with a...”

“Fuck,” Nida hissed under his breath. So that was what Irvine's dream had been. A version of history where he'd killed the boy out of hand instead of trying to protect his life. Well, too late to care about something like that. “He drew a poisoned knife across his throat. It wasn't me.” 

“Wonder what you did to cause that,” Seifer said, shaking his head as Nida started forward again. “You did what you had to do, but man that was a heart stopper.”

“Glad you appreciated it. Are you here to annoy me or help?”

“Help.”

That, again, stopped Nida in his tracks. Leave it to Seifer to shock him several times in one day. 

“Come on, isn't that what you're here to do? Swoop down there and snatch up as many as possible. I'm not going to let you do it alone.”

“Don't slow me down.”

“As if I could.”

Nida all but threw himself into the troop delivery ship, buckled himself in, and barely even gave the door time to close—or Seifer time to jump in—before he ordered the hanger door open and set into take-off preparations. 

He had damned all of those men. He was going to do his best to help them. 

“Hold tight. This is going to take some fancy flying.”

“Don't mind me. I'm just here to haul them out after you fish them up.”

“I'm sure they'll enjoy the irony of being saved by a Sorceress Knight.”

“All the more reason to do it.”


	38. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's still here! We are making progress. Can you sense the progress? I can sense the progress. There is progress. LOOK PROGRESS. I'll shut up now. 
> 
> Progress...

_The sound of booted feet echoes down the hall, and in truth Nida wasn't completely sure whether they were the sound of his own feet, or those of someone he was chasing. He wasn't even sure if he knew how to tell the difference anymore, not with how long he'd been running. So many things were blurring together now, he didn't know why he was here, didn't know where he was going, didn't know what to do when he got there. But he'd grown used to such things out of life, hadn't he? Wasn't this part of the price that he paid for the relative 'comfort' of following destiny's pull around, like a fish hooked and drawn in slowly but unerringly, towards the shore._

_There's a weight in his hand, one he couldn't remember being there before. Not his normal weapon, that much he's sure of. No, the weight is different, the grip, it's one he isn't as sure of, one he is less families with. A sword, weighted differently from what he was used to using, and yet still comforting in his hand. The blade comes up, flashing crimson in his hand, as he lashes out at a shadow before him. It crumples at his feet, pooling there uselessly, bleeding out smoke that added to the air around him._

_Still have to go further, he tells himself, unsure of why he's certain of that. Again he strikes out with the blade, cutting into a shadow even as it appeared. He's running at the wall then, throwing himself at it, up it, twisting around to throw the full force of his weight into a blow that leaves a third shadow split into two unequal portions. Still further to go, and he won't let them stop him. Too much is waiting on him. The future, his destiny, his promise. He can't stop. With so much blood already on his hands, what was the harm in there being more?_

Waking is as sudden as it always is when he's been dreaming. Not that he'd been forced to wake like this in a while. How long had it been since the last dream that wasn't echoing Elijah's death? Nida wasn't entirely sure. No, that wasn't entirely true. He knew when the last one had been, the night before Elijah's death. He just didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about a lot right now, especially not where the dreams had led him or seemed to suggest leading him now. Hadn't he already added enough lives to his count in so short a time? Including those he'd been unable to save despite his best efforts. 

In the end they dedicated an entire hour to trying to save as many as they could from the sea. Not that it did much. Only twenty-two survivors had been pulled up, and three of those Seifer was forced to knock out when they went for his throat. It was a pathetic showing, but it was all that there was really time for, all they could fish out before the cold water and fatigue pulled what others they saw under. There had even been people who refused to go for the dropped life rings that they were hoping to use to help people make it as long as was necessary until they were pulled up. 

All Nida found himself able to do after that was turn the whole damn thing over to Fujin for the remains of the trip to Trabia and then crawl back to his room for the time being. He'd removed the chain which held the paired pendants of Siren and Salamander and tucked them under his pillow and had promptly fallen to sleep in his full uniform, for all that it was uncomfortable. Now, though, he found himself regretting that he hadn't stripped down. Sure, it took a lot of effort to get the full uniform properly situated on his own, but he could call Fujin for help if need be and there might not be such pain in his shoulder if he'd at least taken the guards off. 

But all of that was said and done now, leaving him with no choice but to start moving. No choice. Start moving. 

Yeah, that wasn't going to be happening any time soon, was it? Why would he even want to move with how he felt right now? Once Siren had released her strangle-hold on his emotions he'd felt drained, but with what he'd just dreamed piled on top of that, he wasn't sure what to think. The return of the dreams, or maybe just the release from the echoes of guilt of dreaming of Elijah's death—new death on his hands to absolve the old—was almost as uplifting as it was infuriating. They should have come back sooner, they should have warned him about what he had to do today. About the assassin in his room, about the Zebalgan ship, about Vernon and... 

That was the worst part in a way, the last words Vernon had said. There was no way to be sure, never would have been a way to be sure, whether he was telling the truth. But that didn't make it any less painful. He'd had a chance to learn what his true parents had been like, to maybe learn something of where he'd come from. On the other hand, though, to believe Vernon would mean admitting to sharing a bloodline with him, to being Zebalgan, and all that might entail. 

No, that was another thing he didn't want to think off, so Nida just shook his head, finally rolled himself out of his bunk, and resolved to do something to take his mind off of all of this. At least he had a good thing to tie himself up for the rest of the trip to Trabia, and maybe even beyond. There were reports to be prepared for Squall's sake. Summations of the encounter, the rescue attempt, and the conversation with Vernon. There would be more in the future after Seifer had some time with the prisoners, but that would have to wait. All of that to be done, and it didn't even include looking over the damage reports—surprisingly and thankfully minimal thanks to the successful implementation of the new shielding technology that Lieutenant Yoriel had indicated had been installed. If only he'd remembered that in the heat of battle, maybe he'd have been willing to do more of a head-to-head fight with the Zebalgan ship, maybe he could have saved more... 

A cheerful chirp came from his door even as Nida opened a reporting system on his private terminal. It wasn't as powerful of a system as that in his office, or even had as much access to ship and system reports, but that didn't mean that he couldn't start here. He knew enough of the basics to start outlining the objective and explanatory sections. 

“Open,” he called to the door, certain that no one without authority would be coming to see him. The SeeD guarding this corridor wasn't going to let another person who might make an attempt on his command staff again. 

“Done with your napping?” Seifer asked even as the door slid open. 

“Who said I was...” Nida trailed off. What was even the point? Seifer had proven capable time and time again of getting through doors that he wanted to be on the other side of. There was an unfortunately non-zero chance that Seifer had been in to check up on him while he slept. 

“Seems like you're starting to catch on. You're just getting all kinds of perceptive, Nomura.” 

“Just what I wanted to hear from you,” he countered, barely even looking up from his monitor as he launched into typing. “What could you possibly want at this moment?” 

“I wanted to ask you about that little tactic you pulled earlier,” Seifer said, his comment punctuated by the sound of him trying to haul a chair over to Nida's side. It took a lot for Nida not to chuckle at the thought of it. Almost all of the chairs on the Ragnarok were either bolted to the floor or had another locking mechanism to keep it in place in the event of an attack. Apparently Seifer hadn't gotten that point yet. 

“Having trouble?” Nida couldn't resist asking, though he didn't look up. Better to just keep working, pretend like this was an every day occurrence. 

“Nope,” Seifer said as he obviously gave up and came, instead, to lean against the wall. “Anyway, about what you...” 

“Could we cut to the point?” he asked, finally looking up from his typing. 

“Well, someone's snappy today.” 

“If you can't tell, I'm a little busy here, so I'd rather finish whatever business you have sooner over later.” 

“You sound a lot like Squall.” 

If he hadn't already stopped typing, that would have been enough to get Nida to freeze. 

“Of course you don't see it, but what would you expect? I bet Squall doesn't even fully realize what he's like, but I've got to warn you, as a friend, that you're approaching it rather rapidly.”

“I'm not...” 

“You are, fly boy, you really are. Enough that you'd be mistaken for emulating the princess. Face it, Nomura, you aren't the same person you were when you found me.” 

True enough, but a lot had changed, hadn't it? Fate had scooped him up as a tool, only to drop him again when someone else came along. 

“That little stunt you pulled today, that was a wholly Leonhart move. Risking everything to win. I don't think you'd have done that just a month or so ago.” 

“A month ago there was a lot more to lose.” 

“What about the lives of your crew.” 

“They knew what they were getting into.” 

“Did they, Nida? Did they? Does anyone ever really understand what they're getting into with a war?” 

“They saw the last war...” 

“Not all of them did,” Seifer countered. “Some are civilians. Some were just cadets, and you know how Squall sheltered the kiddies. Maybe to make up for the fact that he couldn't protect anyone else. Let's put it this way, Nomura. When you did that dive, you started to see the problem in numbers, didn't you. What the cost would be in ours to take out a number of theirs. Tell me this, how many injuries or deaths would you have accepted as a reasonable exchange for victory?” 

“There is no such thing as a reasonable exchange of lives!” Nida snapped, whirling in his seat to glare up at Seifer. “There will never be such a thing. But that doesn't mean I don't have to make decisions. Do you think I enjoyed what happened, Seifer? Do you not understand how hard I tried to talk him down from it? I couldn't. People were going to die. His crew definitely. Mine maybe. But fleeing put innocents at risk if Vernon had other orders. I didn't do something that was right or justifiable. Just something that had to be done!” 

That got Seifer to nod, just the slightest bit. Nod and smirk, and all Nida wanted to do was knock that smirk off of the damn blonde's face. Knock him over and force him to understand just how hard this was to handle. 

“Good,” Seifer said at last. “Keep thinking like that. Otherwise you're no good to your crew, you're no good to your friends, and you're sure as hell no good to Squall.” 

“What?” Nida found himself asking, genuinely confused. 

“Squall's taken that burden on himself. Thinking of people as numbers. Thinking of us as numbers. Taken it up so the rest of us don't have to deal with it. Megill, he does it naturally, barely thinks about how they are valuable to him. But Squall, he does it so that you don't have to. If you start taking away the names and the faces... Well, what's he doing it for then?” 

Nida wanted to ask Seifer more, wanted to understand, but even as he stood Seifer was slamming the button for the door and slipping into the hall. Part of Nida wanted to shout after him, reprimand Seifer for leaving without being dismissed, but in the grand scheme of things, what was the point? Technically Nida was Seifer's superior, both in rank and among SeeD. In fact, though, Seifer wasn't under his jurisdiction. No, he was Zell's problem, and were it not for the fact that Nida needed to be here, he'd put two months wages on the line to see how that played out. 

Instead Nida sat back down, returned his attention to the monitor, and launched himself into his report. There would be more time to grill Seifer later. After all, he was stuck with the blonde until they got to Galbadia. There would be time. There was always time. Or at least it was easier to believe there was always time. 

* * * * * * 

_The hallway is long, so long, and he doesn't even know how long he's been running down it. Two sets of footsteps echo around him and while he knows one set are his, the other set is a mystery. They keep pace with him, half a step off, but never getting further ahead, never falling behind, and for some reason he never looks for the source. Somewhere in his mind he's certain that the owner is no threat, but for the life of him he can't remember who it is or why he's nto worried. All he knows is that as he runs the other feet keep pace, as reliable and steady as his own heartbeat._

_Suddenly it's more than two footsteps, it's far more. Shadows rising out of the fog of the hall, and he's lashing out, not even looking, his weapon cutting them down far easier than he would have expected. Not one of his normal staffs then. No, not with how it's in one hand, how it's weighted, how it feels when he shifts his grip. A sword, cutting down the shadows with a slash of blood red and a spreading of the pool of the shadows. Beside and a step behind him there's a loud sound, a sharp retort that covers the sound of the feet. Another shadow falls at his feet, pooling darkness before him, beckoning him to fall forth into it. Instead he rushes forward another step, carrying himself over it and the momentum takes him far. Another shadow coming at him, filling the hall, and instead of facing it he lunges at the wall at full speed. His feet carry him up it a few paces. Then his body is turning, twisting, the weight of the blade twisting with him, coming down full into the area between neck and shoulder. He can feel the crunch of bone giving under the blow, feel it all the way up his arm and into his chest. Part of him aches in sympathy, they don't deserve this, they don't warrant this, but he has to do it anyway._

_Nothing, absolutely nothing, will stop him from getting to the end of the hall. To the task that awaited him. The sword in his hand sung for blood, and he had every intention of slacking its thirst. Only by doing that could he answer his own yearning for revenge._

_And yet, part of him prayed that his companion would be able to stop him. There were some costs he didn't want to pay, for all that his heart screamed for them._

Things settled into a routine far faster than Nida would have expected, or wanted. No other major problems arose on the way to Trabia, and for all of his efforts he gained no information from the few Zebalgans they had taken. They were put off into the custody of the Trabian SeeDs, with a promise that they'd have the prisoners delivered to 'General Leonhart' immediately. As the prisoners were offloaded, new crew members were brought on, and everything had to fall into a three shift schedule. It was the only way to keep things running smoothly and still have one of the three command staff members on duty at the bridge. Discipline was quickly shuffled over as Fujin's exclusive duty, and Raijin was left in charge of working out supplies, organizing housing, and dealing with the most minor squabbles of the crew. After a few days Nida even gave over scheduling to Rajin, and he had to respect just what his Lieutenant Colonel was capable of. Already he was hearing the whispers of satisfaction among the crew, the appreciation for Raijin's ability to get crew bunked up so that two people out of every six person room was on shift at any given time, and no one was overworked it seemed. 

As for Nida, well, when he wasn't on the bridge or staying up late working on report after report, after bloody report, he was drilling the crew on different maneuvers, or helping the mechanics and engineers working on the launching system for the new fliers from Trabia. Time was spent talking to the pilots, discussing strategies for how to protect the Ragnarok against the recently reported lost division of fighters from Galbadia. Seeing as that was his next destination, it was all Nida could really worry about right now. Better than thinking about the potential for endless patrols, nothing to do but crisscross the sky looking for trouble, hoping not to find any, and generally staying out of the way as the war took place around him. 

When he wasn't working through Raijin's shift he spent it in Fujin's arms, trying not to think about how he'd gotten there or here, he was staying up late through Fujin's shift delving into the limits of the journal Elijah had left him. Even then he tried so hard to think about how his mind turned back to his dead lover even when he rested in the arms of his current. 

_**Nida, you ever notice how sometimes it's so much easier to ignore what we are meant to do in favor of what we want to do? Well, I guess you do, seeing as right now you're taking a nap on my bed. We both know I should be taking you into the training center to practice with that new weapon of yours, but we're both so tired lately. Maybe it's the emotions. Maybe it's the school work, maybe it's something else entirely. But there you are, resting peacefully, and I'm trying my best not to think about what I'm supposed to be doing here.**_

_**Would you even understand if I told you? It's an old story, older than anyone remembers, older than Sorceresses and GFs and all of that. Older than Esthar as an independent nation, and yet there you have it. It's a memory that has been forgotten by all but the people, and we only remember it because of the grays.**_

_**Sometimes I wish I was a gray rather than pegged for red and then white. I wish I could live my life how I wanted, bound only to keeping the memory alive. Think of the life I could live then. I could abandon the blade left to me by my father. I could live the life I want, free of conflict, and peaceful. In a place like this Winhill that you tell me about. Maybe someday you will take me there, and I'm certain that I'll love it. Maybe someday we'll leave this life behind and you'll live there with me. Together, with the only burdens placed upon our lives being the ones we choose. Of course, how would we make money? Is there any kind of monster hunting based economy there? I know some small towns pay rather hefty prices for hides and teeth and all that. We could live like that.**_

_**There's a letter waiting for me on my desk from Boyce. I don't want to open it. I don't want to know what he wants. I don't want him to call me home, away from you. He could never accept this, never understand. I hardly care, except that he could easily force it to end.**_

It takes almost an hour to get Seifer off of the ship. For all of the fact that he'd only been on the Rag for a day and a half, Fujin's quarters turned out to be quite a mess. In the end Nida had taken quite a bit of pleasure in ordering one of the SeeD guards into Fujin's room to pack up Seifer's mess and haul it off of the ship. He, of course, had given express orders to not touch the Hyperion, taking the care to carry it off of the ship in its obviously rarely used case and deliver it directly into Seifer's hands. The gunblader had taken a moment to shoot him a really serious salute—impressive considering his dislike for military form—and Nida didn't hold back from shaking the blond's hand. There was a chance he'd never see the arrogant bastard again. If any group was going to get a lot of use, see a lot of the conflict, it would be the ground forces. Sure, someone in Seifer's position shouldn't see too much of it himself, but that didn't mean him and Zell wouldn't find excuses to throw themselves into the thick of it. Fujin too accepted handshake, whereas Raijin had to be removed from his bear hug of Seifer by a sharp kick to the shin from Fujin, a kick that had more than a few of the other officers present hissed in sympathy for. Apparently Fujin's particularly brand of kind discipline was well known already. Well, 'kind' might have been overstating it, but Nida was less than sure. After all, she did seem to constantly carry around her chakram, and those would be far worse punishment than a kick. 

Another flock of men and women came aboard as well, these ones with the more playful looks of hardened military fighter pilots. Nida couldn't help but look upon them with approval. He'd likely have them out by the end of the day, testing their prowess to see who he'd want as his flight captains over the less experienced Trabian and Garden pilots. Though they'd probably require some time on Garden style fliers first. The fighters they were used to weren't quite capable of keeping up with the Ragnarok. Not that they weren't fast. No, it was more that the Garden fliers had been adapted from some early military designs meant to compliment the Ragnarok. Still, he was certain he'd have them used to the new method before departed Esthar tomorrow. He'd have a ready and experienced force to deal with soon, which meant making sure that superiority was quite clearly exerted and understood. There would be more than a few struggles for dominance over the next few days. Nida would have to make sure that Fujin and Raijin kept abreast of it as best they could. 

_The hall ends abruptly, not in a point of light, but in a larger room that he knows looks a lot like the hall, but he can't see it through the smoke. Still, he doesn't question his knowledge, just comes to a stop at the end of the hall, before something that his mind tells him is a railing and drop off are right in front of him. Phase two, complete. Phase three start._

_It takes a moment to let the coil of rope off of his shoulder, to tie an end securely to the railing. Footsteps again, always footsteps, and he whirls, letting the rope fall off of his shoulder and down into the drop even as he pulls the sword up to bear once again. It's easy, too easy, to cut the next three down, they seem so meager compared to the ones that have come before. It's easiest not to think about how much younger they looked, for all that they were shadows. For a moment, half a moment, he wonders where his companion has gone. Then he shakes the thought off. There had never been anyone here with him. The sword goes into its sheathe on his back, a set of descenders coming out of a pouch at his side and latching on to the rope. A moment, quick, to check that everything is secure, then he's over the railing, descenders gripped tightly in his hands as he let himself down the rope and into the darkness below._

Raijin gets all of the conflict out of the crew's system in a single afternoon. Fujin suggested it, of course, but with her as the symbol of discipline it wasn't best to let her be in charge. So Nida just allowed them to do what they wanted, heading up a skeleton crew for the initial part of the flight to Esthar. Meanwhile Raijin had everyone else down in the main hold that had been converted into a mess hall. The tables had been pushed aside and Rajin had the men and women shed their uniform coats and shirts in favor of their undershirts. With Fujin and a few hand-picked civilians he saw to distribution of differently colored pieces of cloth to tie around their heads or arms. Three colors: red, blue, yellow, one for each of the shifts. Apparently he'd already assigned people to different ships, something Nida would reward him for later. Then, smirking stupidly, he'd apparently split the three groups and set them through a few friendly competitions. 

The whole first day that the Galbadians were on the ship no one went around in their uniform shirts, only their colored bands declaring their connections to each other. No one was referred to as 'sir' or treated as a subordinate. Only Fujin, Raijin, and Nida retained their ranks for the day, everyone else learning to work together and respect each other. Because if they didn't their shift-mates or members of other shifts could appeal to the shift heads for discipline. Those who didn't learn quickly to treat others fairly, that everyone was a team, they were under Fujin's watchful eyes from then on. And when, upon arriving at Esthar the next day, the new crew members were instantly greeted with an order to don colors instead of military uniforms, their shift-mates were ready to tell them what to expect. By the time Raijin ordered everyone back into uniform Nida found that the different groups were working well together, that the only ranks that mattered were the ones on people's collars, not the ones in their heads. Everyone was united, together, under Nida's command. 

_**Nida, I'm not entirely sure why, but Vernon was really interested in you when I showed him your picture. Oh, that was why I was gone these last few days, just so you know. Boyce called me home for a meeting. An induction, really. Us three younger, future-members of the council of the people were finally called up to bear our colors. Xu was there, of course, and she spent the whole time trying to impress Boyce with her knowledge of Garden. What a kiss-ass. Not that she was ever anything else. As for Joshua... Well, we never really got along anyway. Oh, Andria says hi, not that I can actually tell you. Wanted me to let you know that she sees to your mother's cottage saying in good condition. She says it's beautiful. I hope to see it some day.**_

_**But Vernon, he was really interested in you. I don't know why, but when I showed him that picture we took together, there was something in his eyes. I pressed him on it, but he said nothing. Vernon's always been like that. A quiet, kind of secretive guy. Boyce usually ignores him, which is weird, you know? Vernon's, like, this master gunsmith, not to mention he's in charge of the browns. The browns, so you know, are sort of the common people. The suppliers, the builders, the maintainers. A lot of them live, pretty permanently, at Haven. I miss it there. Can't help it, we went to Trabia rather than Haven. Anyway, I wonder why Vernon was so interested.**_

_**Boyce... Was pretty insistent upon the whole business of the prophecy. I almost worry that he's losing a bit of himself with his age. Too much focus on where we 'should' be rather than where we are. Someday I'll end up taking over from him, and I think when I do I'll try my hardest to be different from him. Maybe then I'll take you to see them. I'll reveal our people to the world, take our place in recognition. Maybe not keep pursuing the prophecy, but who knows. Maybe it is our fate not to usher in this power for ourselves, but for the whole world. Wouldn't that be nice? Power to make everyone's lives easier. Could we use powers like the Sorceresses? Would we learn to make the land more fertile without damaging it? We could do away with war, famine, disease. Wouldn't that be nice?**_

**REPORT ID:** 1099313247

 **REPORTING PERSONNEL NUMBER:** 37-98342-1247

 **REPORTING PERSONNEL NAME:** Lieutenant General Nida Nomura, United Ally Air Forces, SeeD Rank A

 **LOCATION:** Ragnarok II, Location Point 3423.991.52

 **REASON FOR REPORT:** Daily Status Report

 **REPORT SUMMARY:** All Normal

**REPORT DETAILS:** _REDACTED_

**PERSONAL COMMENTS:** Forgive me for the seemingly dramatic flare, but are you even reading these Squall? Every day I send you, what, five of these things? Always properly formatted, properly written, well suited to a loyal little soldier. But it's been three days since I've heard anything from the command structure. Dammit Squall, what do you think I'm doing out here? It's not like I haven't heard what's going on. I know about the attempted attack on Deling City. I heard that Zell and Seifer turned the attack nicely, but were forced to almost annihilate the forces. Word had gotten back to me about the fact that Selphie and Quistis failed to reach the White SeeD ship in time, and only had a chance to save those survivors of that attack. I know about the troops amassing in northern Centra, aiming a thrust towards Fisherman's Harbor and Balamb beyond that. Do you think I'm dense? Do you think I can't see all of this from the skies you have me fly? 

Or is it that you're trying to keep me out of trouble? News flash, Leonhart, that isn't going to work. I'm already here, already at risk, even if I'm less desirable of a target now that Irvine's out there. There is still a force of Galbadian fighters out there, some place we don't know, waiting to face me. Because Hyne knows they aren't outfitted for air to ground combat, beyond bombing runs. Why am I not out there hunting the things down? Why am I not ordering my fliers into laying down suppressive fire to support the naval movements? What are we even doing up here other than twiddling our fucking thumbs? Tell me that. 

_A voice asks if he's ready, and he nods an affirmative. Together they throw themselves over the railing, ropes through their harnesses, descenders clutched frantically in their hands as they slowly lower themselves purposefully into the dark. Weird, he could have sworn there was no one else here, and yet there he is, beside him, a shadow that doesn't make him feel nervous, but comforted. Okay, that isn't entirely true. Neither of you should be here, you both know that. But you were compelled. This is where you were supposed to be at this point in time, at this moment, performing these actions. He knows it, he's dreamed it, is dreaming it, will dream it, he isn't even sure anymore. Three levels down, he tells himself, slowly moving his grip apart and then together, apart then together, apart then together, lowering himself foot by painful foot._

_Odd, really, how he's always kept his head when it came to heights, but here and now he was less sure. Here and now, his feet dangling over an abyss of black, he's nervous. His heart is beating in his throat, in his ears, in his mouth. If he falls now it's all over. Everything they fought for, everything they are fighting for, it's over. Not just his life, but the whole point of this mission._

_No, don't think of it. Think of what is important. Think about the fact that it's going to end here, soon. The question is only who was going to get to deal the final blow._


	39. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here. Still writing. Progress?

_**Nida, there's something about the way you move when we fight that just isn't real. I wish I could find the words for it, but none of it makes sense. It's like, well, this is going to sound mad, but it's like you're already there when I move. Not always, not even half of the time, but sometimes you're there before I even realize where I'm going. You know before really seeming to know. Maybe it's instinct, maybe you were made for fighting the same way Squall and that ass Seifer seem to be. But I'm not sure. I'm terrified of just what it might mean. Hyne help us all if it does. Let me never find proof.** _

Some shifts it's easier to sleep than others. The ones where Fujin's there, massaging away the stress are easy to sleep through. The ones where she's on shift and he's alone, left to read through Elijah's journal or work on reports, that tires him out as well. It's the times when there's been news that it's hard to sleep. When he heard of a strike against Balamb repelled by a joint operation between Quistis and Seifer, all while Zell was staging an assault on a Zebalgan base. He didn't sleep after the attack on the Ragnarok outside of the old D-District Prison by the Zebalgan controlled air forces. And right now, he wasn't sleeping either. 

Part of the problem was that the dreams, now that they were back, were back in force. Not that they told him much. The fog and smoke dreams never did, which was infuriating since the clear dreams were supposed to be unavoidable. How did one avoid the worst destiny had to offer when the only things clear enough to avoid were fated by his previous possibilities. One with someone helping him, one without. So far he knew little about how it would play out differently, where it would be, or who it was with in the one version. 

Squall had stopped asking for more than the briefest summaries almost a week ago, his attention instead on the war efforts. And war efforts they really were now, from what Nida understood from the cross fleet reports. After Vernon's death the last Zebalgan leader at large other than Boyce, Ashura, had fled taking down a troop of SeeDs with the summoning of a legendary GF. While he hadn't been given a casualty count, it didn't mean he didn't have an idea. As for Irvine, well if he was seeing something similar or relevant, Nida wasn't given any word on it. 

Nor had there been too much help or comfort in the journal. The entries always seemed to focus either on him, or what Elijah had planned for the Zebalgan people. The combination of the loss it left him feeling and the lost potential, well, it left him wishing he had a chance to drink. Or at least that he was old enough to do it. Old enough to throw away his life in a war, but not enough to drink away the memories of the faces of those he had killed. Wonderful. Even now he wasn't sure why he was reading, what he thought he was going to find there. For all that Seifer sent him coded messages through Fujin every now and then to ask after what information he might have found, Nida still hadn't responded. There wasn't anything really worth passing on so far, nothing that they didn't already know at least. Well, that wasn't entirely true. A lot of what was in there would confirm things Nida had previously reported having heard from Elijah in those last days. 

So now here he was, standing beside his bunk, staring at the things he'd thrown together on the shitty mattress, unsure of what to do. Three times he'd been in this position, staring down at the assemblage of items, and trying to decide what to do with it all. Every time before this he'd stuffed them away as it was getting close to the end of Raijin's shift and the need to be ready for his own. Some of the things were innocent enough: one of the few shirts that had survived the destruction of his room; a pair of sturdy, long in the leg pants that Irvine had given him after the same fit; his metal tambo; a few vials of curative solutions like potions and antidotes; even the mithril necklace hung with both Siren's and Salamander's pendents. Other things were far less 'mundane': the coil of sturdy rope he'd stolen from the hanger; a harness and set of descenders for repelling; a harness for both Elijah's sword and his own tambo; and he didn't even want to get started on the lock picks, palm computers, or the other tools that he'd picked up in the line of his infiltration training. 

With this kind of stuff he should be able to get into just about anywhere, and through just about anything that his dreams threw at him. This, more than anything, was something he had been trained in. As much as he loved the skies he could crack most locks—be they electronic or physical—with a speed that put even Seifer's obsession with breaking and entering to shame. The thing was that he couldn't bring himself to stuff it all into his pack and make the move his dreams had been urging him toward for so long now. Part of it was because he wasn't sure what would come of the dream: what was the point of the corridor so prevalent in his dreams; would Squall see him in an Esthari maximum security jail for this betrayal; would Fujin be able to handle the Ragnarok's command on her own, and would she forgive him for his disappearance. 

The other part was that Nida hadn't known where the dreams were taking him. Not until last night, not until the dream that he hadn't reported. As sure as Nida was that this was a crazy plan, he wasn't mad enough to tell Squall what he intended to do before hand. That in the smoke and fog of his own mind he, yet again, stole a flier right from under Squall's nose, flying out into the night to meet a fate that he could barely understand. 

The question, now, really came down to what he was going to do. There might not be another chance to leave like this. Raijin was on shift right now, but Fujin was caught up with some disciplinary matters that left Nida surprisingly free. Act or don't, it was up to him. 

He's made it out of his uniform and into the casual clothes before he even realized that his mind had been made up. The weapons harnesses were on before he even cared about the decision. The weapons were in place, the pack filled and on his shoulder, and Siren and Salamander lodged safely and silently in his mind before he stopped and actually thought about it. Fujin was going to kill him for this. Never mind Squall or Seifer or anyone else. She was going to have his head for leaving everything behind without even the slightest bit of excuse. Not that there was much time to leave more than a passing note. Fujin could finish with her work any moment, and while Nida was sure he could take her in a fight, he was certain that it would only come at great cost to himself. He valued his pride, and his fingers, a little too much to risk it. It wasn't much, but he managed to pen out a brief explanation and apology and tape it to the frame of the bunk before he slipped out into the corridor. 

It was late, one of the perks of living on ten hour shifts, which meant that only those on duty were really awake, or at least out and about. The best was that none of them would dare to stop him, even with the odd selection of things he was wearing and carrying. Who would dare cross their General, even if he was acting suspicious? It was nothing like the last time he'd gone to steal a flier. No, that time he had relied on Seifer's rather unquestionable facade to get him where he needed to be. This time he had to rely on the same quality in himself, not that he'd ever felt like he'd really possessed it. When had that changed? When had he gone from being a rather forgettable SeeD who strove to be recognized to someone who just wanted to flee from recognition he didn't want? 

_One should always be careful what they wish for_ , Salamander's mental voice crackled. Nida just waved it aside in his mind even as he waved the guard at the end of the corridor aside. Sure, the SeeD stared at him in shock and Salamander's essence burned in a quiet kind of annoyance in his mind, but Nida ignored them both and carried on as if his right to do whatever he wanted was unquestionable, because at least here it was to everyone but Fujin and Raijin. 

That didn't make the trip down to the hanger any less tense, or him any less worried that someone really would stop and ask him. It was a concern that he'd had a lot these last weeks. When was someone going to stop him and calmly inform him that they'd been wrong about it all, that he wasn't special, and that no one really thought he should be in charge of anything. That this was all just some elaborate practical joke, likely executed by Seifer, for reasons that no one could fathom. But that moment never came, and he knew it never would. The world was just too brutally real for his comfort, and he had to make do with what it gave him at any moment.

Blessedly, miraculously, the hanger was almost empty when he got there. The only one that seemed to be out and doing anything was Yoriel, who was focusing pretty hard on an opened up engine of one of the Galbadian fighters. It was almost nothing to head over to one of the Garden fliers that Nida was more familiar with, and stuff what he could into one of the storage compartments. It was only as he was tossing the sword and tambo in that he heard the footsteps behind him and froze. Was this it? Was this the moment where he made the choice that caused the difference between the two fogged paths of the future? How would he even know it if it was?

“Where you off to?” Yoriel asked, and Nida just sighed. No, this wasn't it, this couldn't be it. There was no reason to drag him along. 

“I need a chance to clear my head,” he lied in response, and was surprised by how easy it was. “Take a spin around the Rag, maybe a few barrel rolls just to relax.”

“You've got a rather strange concept of relaxing,” Yoriel laughed nervously, clearly not buying it. 

“Are you really surprised?”

“No,” Yoriel admitted, laughing. “You filed a flight plan?”

“Does it look like I took the time to think about a flight plan?” Nida countered, turning to smile at the man. 

“It's protocol, sir...”

“Whose?” 

“Well... Uh... yours.”

“Trust me, Yoriel, everything is under control. I've got everything sorted out with Lieutenant Colonel Venti. If you've any questions, take them to her. I'll be back soon.”

With that Nida all but threw himself into the cockpit, closed it behind him, and started the manual override on the launch system. It didn't take long for Yoriel to run out of the hanger, likely to report to Fujin, and before he was even out of the hanger it was clearing out from the launch alarms. Nida ran through his pre-flight checklist as quickly as he could manage, even as the launch sling started to pull the flier towards the opening hatch. There was only just enough time to get through it and get the restraints on before it was time to power up the engines and feel the rush as the launcher flung him from the hanger and into the welcoming arms of the night. Before he was out of sight of the Ragnarok the transponder and communicator was off and Nida was setting course for his target: the one he'd found through the faintest hint in a moment of clarity in the smoke dreams. 

Time to see what the Deep Sea Research Center on Battleship Island was all about. 

* * * * * *

There were a lot of stories about the Deep Sea Research Center of Battleship Island, there always had been. They came mostly from Adel's reign, from the times where Odine had free reign to research whatever he saw fit, a time before the Ellone machine. Back then there had been a lot of interest in furthering the understanding of para-magic, to find bigger and better draw points to allow normal humans more control over the magical forces that seemed to hold the world in awe. There had been experiments with the Guardian Forces there, attempts to control them to gain even more power. Some rumors said the researchers went insane. Others said they looked into the core of the power of the world and swore never to speak of its wonder again. There were even one or two reserved for horror stories, where a researcher was driven mad by what they discovered and murdered his colleagues one by one until the Esthari military grade robots were sent to seal the place. And, of course, there were the stories of a great power being discovered that they feared and sealed away. Strangely enough Squall, Zell, and Quistis had been the ones to prove the last rumor true in the last war. Proved it at great cost to themselves—Nida had seen how damaged they had been after returning from their exploration—but with a kind of prize that was hard to rival: the loyalty of both Bahamut and Eden. 

Few records had been created about their exploration of the main research facility, but enough of the descriptions had come through in Zell's stories during lunches that Nida had finally been able to recognize it when his dreams had at last offered the clue of hazy but decrepit structures all but sinking into the sea. Not that it had helped him in doing much more than finding the general location. His dream had been specific, he'd seen the main facility from the view in his dream, which meant he wasn't bound for the same place that Squall and them had explored, but some place different. It had taken several minutes of circling in his flier, of watching and searching for the right combination, before Nida finally landed on the roof of one of the tallest points of the various structures. Already he knew some of what he'd find inside. Long corridors filled with enemies, a deep stairwell that he'd have to throw himself down, but to what end he still wasn't sure. The bigger question, though, was whether or not he'd passed the chance for companionship in all of this. Not that he liked his chances. There were only a few people that he could even begin to expect to find out here. Fujin or Raijin coming after him wasn't too likely: for all that they were technically responsible for him, neither were qualified pilots like Nida. There was always Seifer, he somehow seemed to find a way to get himself involved in places that didn't make sense. Squall, making a coordinated strike using some bit of information that he'd come across, possibly through Irvine's dreams. Maybe even Zell, considering his familiarity of this place, or at least the stories around it. 

No, Nida decided, even as he gathered his things from the flier and shut it down—though not before wiring his transponder to turn back on in an hour if he didn't stop it from doing so—it couldn't be them. Now that he put his mind to it, now that he really thought about it, none of them made sense. Slowly he fit his tambos into their places at his lower back, and shifted his grip on Elijah's sword—this was the grip he'd been unfamiliar with in his dreams—and he thought about the world of clues he'd been given and hadn't really understood in his dreams. 

The dreams, they ruled out so many people. The fact that he could even hear his partner meant that it couldn't be Fujin. She was deathly silent when she moved, no matter the speed. Nida had learned that rather well these last few weeks. Nor could it be Squall; he was also rather quiet when he moved, though not utterly silent like Fujin. Seifer wasn't possible because it was too quiet in a way. If Nida had learned anything from his time around Seifer, it was that the arrogant blond was hardly the kind of guy to stay silent for the lengths of time that the dreams implied, even when there was serious business going on. As for Zell, even though he did know his way around guns—for Nida was certain that guns were the only explanation that made sense from what he remembered of the sounds in his dreams—his automatics wouldn't make the same sounds that Nida had heard. 

No, there was really only one answer, and as Nida leaned there, against his flier, he almost smiled as he heard the roar of a Garden flier's engines. Now the question was how this was going to play out. Was he going to have to use persuasion or was it all just going to play out how it should?

He waited there, silent, as the flier landed and the sound of the engines died down. Held his breath as he heard the slight rush of air that meant the cockpit would be open. Finally, at the sound of boots hitting the deck, he pushed off from the side of his own flier and turned to look at the person he knew was there. 

“So, Irvine, you here to drag me back or get to the bottom of the dream with me?”

It was almost funny to see the way Irvine flinched at his voice, his hand going instantly to his side where Exeter was holstered. After a moment though, Irvine just shook his head, smirked, and tipped his hat to Nida. 

“I was certain I was going to find you deeper inside,” he admitted, opening the storage hatch on his own flier to pull out his pack. “Somewhere after the descent in the stairs.”

“Oh?” Nida asked, watching almost appreciatively as Irvine pulled a wooden staff out of the storage compartment. So he was taking those old lessons seriously, he actually intended to carry a melee range weapon. Maybe all those months of training wasn't going to be wasted for either of them. “Seems you've got far more clarity than I did. Two sets of smoke dreams, one with me alone, the other me with someone else, not that it ever told me who. So... tell me, 'heir,' why are we even here?”

The question made Irvine's face fall, and Nida regretted the word choice as he saw the look there. It wasn't like either of them had asked for this, or that Irvine had meant to lie to him all this time. In this, at least, they had to be united, whether they liked it or not. Whether they liked what it meant or not. 

“Nida, I...” 

He just held up and hand and shook his head, not wanting to hear it anymore than Irvine wanted to say it. “Don't. Please. I'm sorry. It's just been a bit frustrating. Like Squall shuffled me off to deal with some nonexistent problem in the hopes of keeping me out of trouble. And I'm pretty sure that I got Fujin and Raijin shuffled off on to me by some machinations of Seifer's...”

“I know,” Irvine admitted, sighing as he strode to Nida's side. “Trust me, I know. Squall hasn't been the only one reading your reports.”

“Ouch,” Nida groaned, shaking his head. “They weren't exactly the most glowing recommendation of my recent mental health.”

“Not really,” Irvine agreed. “But it did help me come to some conclusions.”

“Such as?”

He gestured widely around them, as if the scenery was in some way his answer. “This, Nida. For a while my dreams of this place were smoke too. But once I made a decision, once I knew you were dreaming of it and that you were the one I was waiting for, it went from smoke to perfect clarity. I knew that I had to be here, today, for what we have to do next. For what we're meant to do here.”

“And that is?”

“Achieve the capture or death of Boyce Megill.”

Nida stood there, frozen, staring at Irvine with what he was sure would be wide eyes. That was what they were here for? That was the fate that tied them together? Which meant that the resistance they encountered would be Zebalgans. No. No, he didn't want this. Not here, not now. Was this really how it was going to end? Not with a proper war, but with them taking the course of history into their own hands? 

“Does Squall know you're here?”

“No,” Irvine said, smiling. “Does Fujin know you're here?”

“No,” Nida admitted. “This is something I had to do myself. I couldn't let them stop me. And now that I'm here...”

“You want revenge? For everything my grandfather's taken from you?”

Oddly, that wasn't what he wanted. Part of him said it was what he should desire, what he should want beyond all doubts, beyond all questions. Revenge for Vernon, for Elijah, for Andria, for each and every life that was on his hands because of Boyce's damn possessive desires. For the suffering and hopelessness he'd inflicted on the world. In a time where they had finally found and hoped for peace, he'd ruined it all. How many were already dead? How many more would die if they didn't end this here and now? Yet, for all the reasons he knew he should want this, part of Nida just wanted to run away and not look back. Because it couldn't end here, not the way that Irvine wanted. Surely he saw that. They better than anyone knew what it meant to see and be bound by fate. One day Irvine was bound to releasing the other half of Hyne's power upon the world, wasn't he? What if this moment, what if this action, was what led them to it? What if this was the place where they would find the missing half of the body of Hyne? What if their very presence awoke the magic for Boyce's claiming? Hadn't other things that mysterious been found here? Couldn't Eden and Bahamut have been a sign of the potential of this place? Two GFs of their lev...

“Do you have one of the new Guardian Forces on you?” Nida found himself asking, even as the thought hit him. 

“What?”

“One of the new ones. Like Ramuh or...”

“Mateas,” Irvine offered, frowning. “Most of them were parceled out to the high level SeeDs, and Squall said that Shiva absolutely refused to work with her. We ended up switching junctions because of that. Which has pleased Mateas to no end. She keeps making vague, ominous statements and at the same time they seem to reek of gloating over me. She calls me...”

_Coyote, the cunning little wolf,_ Salamander offered. 

“Coyote. I know,” Nida sighed. “Siren has had avian pet names for me since her 'awakening,' but Salamander only ever uses one...”

“Eagle,” Irvine responded, and Nida couldn't help but nod, even as Irvine had when he'd used the term that Salamander had given him. “Seems like they have their own minds made up as to who and what we are. I don't know if I should be jealous of your title or not. Coyotes are scavengers. Eagles are hunters.”

“Coyotes are hunters,” he found himself correcting Irvince. “Plus they are survivors, they are adaptable. Eagles are far less so. They are set in their ways, they return to the same nesting spots...”

“Building on a stable structure of years.”

_You quibble too much,_ Salamander suddenly cut in, and Nida couldn't help but wince at the force of the words. 

“Forceful?”

“Do you like hot sauce?”

“What?”

“Do you like hot sauce? No tricks here.”

“Uh... Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, when Salamander thinks it is like my brain has been dipped in hot sauce and then set on fire while being squeeze by a vice. Helpful?”

“Descriptive and terrifying. Enough to make me more willing to put up with Mateas's frost and gloom in her attempts to 'guide' me.”

“Guide... now there is the question, right? If you're meant to fulfill this prophecy that the Zebalgans fight for, if you're going to release this power into the world, who are we to say that isn't going to be now? That the Guardian Forces haven't led us here for that very end?”

There was a burst of pain behind his eyes, Salamander's retribution for the suggestion no doubt, but Nida just grit his teeth and stared at Irvine, waiting for his response. He could even see the idea all but rolling around in Irvine's mind, could see it plainly on his face. Could even see it when Irvine tossed the idea aside and clearly decided to act anyway. 

“I had a clear dream of being here, Nida. A crystal clear dream with us somewhere down there, face to face with Boyce. There's no avoiding it. It's...”

“Please don't say it's fate, Irvine. You want to be able to change the clear dreams? Then just don't do it. Walk away now and leave this to me. If it's the heir who unlocks the power of Hyne, then you shouldn't be there. Shouldn't risk letting the power...”

“Nida...”

“Dammit Irvine, just listen. Walk away. Change the future that you've seen.”

“And what about all the lives that are lost if we don't act here and now?” 

That, maybe even only that, was the one thing that Irvine could have said to get Nida moving. The only reason he was willing to accept this. At this point he had seen enough of war, of bloodshed, of pain and suffering, that even so slim of a chance to end it was too tempting to pass up. 

“Are you sure you're ready for this?” Nida found himself asking, testing the feeling of Elijah's sword in his hand once more. 

“Are you sure you can keep up?” Irvine countered. 

“I should be asking that of you,” he laughed, half smirking. “Who's the one that is trained in this, anyway? Yeah, so you're a sniper, but your infiltration only goes to a point. This is my specialty, Irvine.”

“You're saying that a gunner like me can't...”

“Yes, Irvine, that's what I'm saying. Besides, in my dreams you were always trailing behind. That was why I wasn't sure that I was going to find you here.”

“They were smoke dreams, right?” 

“Are you saying that you might still win just because the dream wasn't clear?”

“Just saying that's the way it works.”

Despite all of the stress, Nida forced a smile onto his face, gestured widely in the direction of the door that obviously led into the structure, and then, even as Irvine tipped his hat in acknowledgment, Nida took off in a run for the door. He only barely heard a snort of amused annoyance from Irvine before the long since familiar sound of footsteps started behind him. 

Neither of them laughed. Nor did they speak. In silence they started into the research structure, silent as death—that is not at all—as they moved through the forces that had been left to block their path. 

* * * * * *

It plays out like a dream. No... No, not like 'a' dream, but like one in particular. Running down long corridors, cutting people out of the way with Elijah's blade, refusing to see the realization that hit them in the wake of the crimson blade, nothing to serve as his companion but the GFs lodged in his head, the echoing of his and Irvine's footsteps in the halls, and the realization of just what they were doing. The people that were meeting their ends at the edge of Rupio were young, so much younger than himself if he really thought about it. Not that he wanted to think about it. It was hard enough to know, on some level, that he would carry their faces with him for the rest of his life. 

It doesn't even change until he's over the edge of the stair well, descenders clutched tightly in his hands as he starts down the rope. Three levels, his memory of the dream tells him, but he honestly doesn't know why he's certain about it. Just that when he reaches the railing he carefully swings himself over it, strips off his harness as quickly as possible, and pulled Rupio from its sheathe. Irvine had held off potential threats while Nida had rigged up the descent for them, and it was only right for Nida to hold the bottom while he waited for Irvine to join him. Didn't hurt that it would mean that Irvine would take responsibility for gathering up and stowing the gear. 

Soon enough Irvine is at his side, the gear stowed, and they're into gray territory when it came to the knowledge left to them by their dreams. From there it was only instinct. Taking turns relying on gut instincts of where to go, usually supported by which directions seemed to have more enemy fighters coming at them. They moved together, only the sounds of their boots keeping each other company as they moved through the halls, the steady beat broken when they came to blows with those they met. 

One hallway was very much like another, they soon came to recognize. There were marks, of course, at every intersection, at every room, but that didn't mean they were decipherable. Nida had no clue what they were, though Salamander had squirmed uneasily in his mind every time he thought about them too hard. When questioned, Irvine confirmed a similar reaction from Mateas, though she was less reluctant to admit that they made her uncomfortable than Salamander was. Still, it's in relative silence and peace that they reach the end of a corridor that didn't connect to another, but emptied out into a large room almost filled with non-functioning computer banks. 

And in the middle of it stood a single figure, clad in traditional Esthari robes in a shade of gold that screamed only one thing to Nida. 

“Ashura,” he observed, sadly resigned to what her presence meant. If only he could, for once, encounter one of the Zebalgan leaders without it coming to their deaths. Because clearly, Ashura was not going to let him past, not with the way she was standing there, glaring at them, a short staff held in her folded hands. 

“The last one?” Irvine asked, and Nida just nodded in agreement. “Well, a guy can hope, right? Stand aside, and you won't be harmed.”

“Oh, that truly is cute, dear boys, but don't begin to believe that you're getting past me.”

“Are we supposed to be scared of you?” Nida asked, frowning. “No offense, but you side really hasn't been showing much capability in a one on one sort of situation. There was Andria, who was poisoned by one of your own. Xu, killed by Seifer before she could assassinate Squall. Zell managed to snap Ruth's neck pretty easily. Joshua I took the head from, Elijah I shoved a metal blade through, and Vernon I shot out of the sky quite recently. Which leaves Boyce, who we're here to handle, and you. Really, Ashura, do you think you're going to stop us in our attempt to bring this to an end?”

“It's already coming to an end,” she said, smiling widely and almost, if Nida dared to say it, madly. “And you are too late to play a role in it.”

Nida took a quick moment to glance at Irvine out of the corner of his eyes, and sure enough he found the same confusion on Irvine's face that he felt. At least he wasn't alone in feeling confused by what Ashura was spouting. Coming to an end? What was? The war? And she thought they didn't have a part in it?

“We're fated to play a part here,” Irvine countered, “Otherwise we never would have found our way here.”

“Oh no, you do have a fate here,” she agreed, laughing. No, cackling. “Your fate is to end here. At my hands. I was certain that when you crossed Joshua you'd meet your end, but I see now that he was never enough to overcome the supposed burden placed upon you both. That honor was reserved for me.” 

There was a slightly confused noise from Irvine, but Nida, he was instantly shifting into a defensive stance, Elijah's blade raised before him to ward off the threat he now knew Ashura would be. He couldn't help but remember Joshua's words all those months ago, back when the young psychopath had tried to kill Nida. Back then he'd had Elijah and Seifer to protect him. This time it was up to him to make sure that Irvine made it through this safely. 

“Irvine, remember the report about Joshua?” Nida asked, glancing quickly back over his shoulder and seeing confusion still plainly there on Irvine's face.

“He was part of some sect of the Zebalgans that...”

Nida could hear the realization in Irvine's voice, could hear him take a step backward. Likely as not his gun was coming out. All Nida could do was gesture at him, a low and small movement of his hand that related all that Irvine needed to know, if he was remembering the numerous times where Nida had cut their training sessions short to teach Irvine the Balamb SeeD hand signals. 'Stay back,' he signaled, even as he relaxed his grip on the sword and strode towards the point where Ashura was standing. 

“When Joshua, and Elijah, admitted there was a group of Zebalgans who thought that the Heir wasn't needed, I figured I'd meet them again some day. Not that they were willing to do anything to me when I was in Haven. But I'd always thought he was alone on the council. That Boyce wouldn't allow such a potentially damaging group come to more power.”

“You were wrong,” Ashura laughed, eyes flashing with a kind of madness that made Nida nervous. “Joshua was hard to talk around to my way of thinking, but in the end he did what was right. Because he believed the truth that I learned, that I shared with him. The truth that this place taught me.”

“This place?” Irvine asked, and Nida wanted to turn and shake him until he shut up. Maybe he was the heir, maybe he was Nida's cousin, maybe a lot of things, but he wasn't using his head right now. The last thing Nida wanted was for Ashura to put too much attention on Irvine. Better that she went for him than for Irvine. The gunner could be their only hope. 

“Oh my. Seems that neither of you know why you are here. Sons of the blood indeed, not even knowing where they have come or why they have done that. Not realizing that you are drawn here even as Boyce has always been. You're children, not heirs. Fated to fail, as I have always known. Well then, let me enlighten you. This place, it is more than a research center. Surely you've heard of the histories, know of what has been discovered here.”

“Bahamut, Eden, and the Weapon,” Nida offered, knowing that unless he did Irvine would answer and keep drawing attention to himself. As he spoke he carefully made another gesture, ordering Irvine into silence. “There was also research going on here, using the GFs, looking for the ultimate draw point.”

“Exactly,” she cooed the word, as if delighting in the meaning behind it. “Here, let's try this question. Do you even have any idea as to who I am?”

Nida shook his head. There were some obvious answers: she had been living in Esthari, she wore the robes of a native, she had the accent, but when the SeeD forces had found her, it had been at the airport. So far as Nida knew, no one was aware of just who this woman really was. 

“You've been Odine's primary research assistant for almost two decades,” Irvine provided. “A leading researcher on GFs, right up there with Veringas.”

“Well well, apparently you SeeD were better researchers than I thought. Or Veringas gave you the information after he heard of my escape. Either way you know enough. Yes, I was a guardian force researcher under Veringas and Odine. I was a member of the original research team here at Battleship Island. When they broke through to the deeps here, when they found the place where the Weapon was sealed, I alone knew the meaning of this place. Odine and Veringas were fools, to never realize the power that was given them here. None of them understood. None of them were capable of it. They couldn't see what we had found. The place that was promised us by the prophecies of a misguided ancient tribes man. This is the place we were meant to come, the place where the body of the god rests. It is here that we shall awaken the power we earned all those eons ago! This is the place where all our fates come to a head, and we didn't need you to guide us here, and Boyce will not need you to awaken the power promised us.”

“She's mad,” Irvine whispered, and Nida couldn't help but agree. Not that it made him feel any better. Here he was, standing between a crazy woman and someone he was bound to protect, and if she was even anywhere near right with her suspicions, then things could get really bad right here. He needed Irvine through here, needed him going off to deal with Boyce. Which meant doing something he'd hoped not to have to do again. 

He doesn't answer, just lunges forward, strengthening his grip on Rupio and raising it just before he reached Ashura. The blade didn't touch her. In the last moment before it met her flesh, Ashura raised a single hand, it flashed with light, and to Nida it felt like the sword had hit a solid wall. As the light faded Nida couldn't help but stare at the way his blade hovered there in the air, inches from her upraised hand. Yet it still felt like a solid wall of steel that was holding him back. Part of him wanted to curse, to deny what was happening, to take a step back and try again with better success. Instead he turned his gaze, met Ashura's eyes, and he let his breath catch as he met the gleam of gold that he caught there. 

“Sorceress.” The only word he had a chance to gasp out as the force in her upraised hand exploded outward, throwing him across the room and slamming him hard into a wall.


	40. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... I didn't see that last part coming either. It's changed the way that this is going to play out. Enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> GAH! Three words short of 200k!

Life as a mercenary was painful. It was something that Nida had spent the last several years becoming far too familiar with. He'd had arms and legs broken, he'd been stuck in bed for a week because of internal trauma, there had been concussions, and one couldn't ignore the suffering that Joshua's poison had done to him. While he hadn't been through quite so much as Squall or the others, but that didn't mean that Nida didn't know how to handle pain. 

That didn't make the pain he was feeling now any less. The second he'd hit the wall he'd heard as much as felt the sickening crack that could only mean a broken bone. What made it worse was that as he slid down the wall it wasn't his legs or arms that hurt, or at least they only hurt as much as they were supposed to when a body was thrown against the wall. No, the flare of pain was in his chest, and the second it started to hurt to breathe. Which really could only mean one thing: a broken rib. 

“Nida!” Irvine shouted, and were it not for the fact that Nida almost instinctively waved him back, he was certain the gunner would have come to help him. 

He could taste blood in his mouth. That was the most worrying part. Nida turned his head and spit to the side, trying to get as much blood out of his mouth as possible. Unfortunately that didn't help too much, he could still taste blood. The question was whether it was because he had bit his cheek or tongue open, or if it was coming from some internal damage. Oh well, there wasn't much he could do about it right now. Slowly Nida pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and doing it as casually as he could manage despite the pain. Make it look like nothing or people would make something of it. There would be time to deal with the pain and injuries later, if he won.

“How does someone like you survive the Zebalgans? If memory serves they have a particular vendetta against your kind.” 

“They hate what they cannot understand,” Ashura countered, smiling triumphantly. “But you understand. Or at least you recognize me for what I am.” 

“How could someone not? The eyes give it away,” Nida agreed, his eyes already casting around for Rupio. Unfortunately when he had been sent flying, the sword had as well, and not in a direction that he liked. The thing was across the room, and not in the kind of way that would make it easy, or even possible, for him to retrieve. Fuck. Things just weren't going his way today. Well, he'd just have to make do with what he had. 

“You'd be amazed the wonders that can be wrought by colored contacts.” 

A point to be conceded, and Nida just shrugged at her response. “Still, sort of ironic for you to be a member of a group that would want your head if given the chance. Must have been hard to get by without a knight to anchor your power on top of that.” 

“Who said I lacked one? No, I had one, a quite talented young man, until someone saw fight to deal to him a death that was, ironically enough, the one reserved for Sorceress Knights... Was that a deliberate choice, or just luck?” 

Joshua... Well, that explained some stuff. Maybe. No, it just really didn't. There was little Nida could do about that now anyway. At least he had the advantage on her in that respect. Sorceresses without knights were supposed to be less powerful, their magics with less of an edge to them. Still, it made Nida wish he'd asked Seifer and Squall more about how the dynamic between Sorceress and Knight played out. 

More than that he wished that he'd had any experience at all with fighting a Sorceress. 

“Just luck I guess,” Nida said, smirking. Keep her attention on him, that was the key. Carefully, deliberately, he made casual gestures, like dusting off the shirt he was wearing, pointedly ignoring the blood. “My limit break changes depending on the specific weapon I'm wielding. Joshua managed to get me at a bad weapon choice. You, though, you're luckier. Death won't be so quick.” 

“Nida...” Irvine whispered, and Nida just shook his head. 

“Don't you have something to do?” he demanded, not even turning to glare at Irvine despite wanting to. 

“I...” 

“Go,” he snapped angrily. “That's an order.” 

It was weird to realize now that he still had that power over Irvine. If everything had gone the way it should have, that they'd planned it, then Nida wouldn't have been able to make it an order. Irvine was supposed to be the one that made Rank A, not Nida. Irvine was supposed to be the one who amounted to something. Nida was the one who had started to question what he was fighting for, what he was still going for. The one who had been thinking about running away, about giving up the life of a mercenary. And here they were instead, Nida his superior in multiple ways, and yet still fighting to protect him. 

But that was what a SeeD caliber mercenary did. Fought for what they were told to, struggled to give those who didn't have a chance on their own. Sacrificed themselves to see the job done. 

It was what family did as well. 

“Sir,” Irvine agreed at last, though not before Nida felt the faint and soothing brush of a curative spell against his skin. That was something. Not much of something, but enough that it took the edge off of the pain. 

“Who said that I'm letting either of you leave this room alive?” 

“Who said you got a vote?” Nida countered, rolling his shoulders be reaching behind his back and slipping his tambo free. “I don't remember giving you one. Completely slipped my mind. Oh well, it is what it is. Let's face it, Ashura, this isn't about you and him. It's about you and me. Irvine's going on and dealing with Boyce. We get stuck with each other.” 

“I'm not letting him...” 

“I'm not giving you a choice,” Nida growled, twirling the tambo through his fingers. 

Her hand raises again, clearly ready to show Nida just who was in charge in this situation. The problem was that for all that Ashura was certain that she was the one in control, she couldn't have been more wrong. Nida knew better than anything what he was doing here, and it wasn't aiming to win. No, the goal was to stall, and while he couldn't do much with tambo against a sorceress, he could definitely stall. Even as she's moving to attack he's lunging across the room, his mind immediately shifting the ways his magic tied him to the Guardian Forces in his mind. Spells shifted at the speed of thought, pulling the power away from his vitality, magic, evasion, pushing it in to strength, spirit, speed, all in the hopes that it would be enough. That once or twice he might get through her defenses to land a telling blow. So that the magic she hit him with wouldn't be so bad. Hoping that there would be more than enough speed to get into her defenses, and away before the next blast of magic threw him halfway across the room and ruined him further. All or nothing, because that was the only way to do this. 

Because he wasn't Squall. Because he didn't have two other people to back him up. Because he had to do this and it didn't matter whether he made it through this or not. 

_Nida..._ Siren whispered in his ear, but he blocked it out. Tried not to think about how this was a lot like the encounter in Haven. Tried not to think about how much it was like that moment a while ago, back in the forest outside of Garden, when he'd been playing cat and mouse with Quistis, Zell, and Selphie, and had laughingly pointed out to them that sometimes one had to sacrifice themselves for the sake of the mission. 

Before her hand is up all the way he's lashing out, elbow rotating, shoulder throwing as much strength as he could to supplement the momentum that would be the main source of the force. The short iron staff moved toward her hip, even as Nida swung with the other, aiming for her ribs. Speed, accuracy, getting in and out was the goal. 

Not that he got out. The hand came up, almost in his face and it came up even as the tambo struck nothing but hard air at her sides. Immediately he twisted to the side, out of the immediate area of her hand, changing his point of view on Ashura. The targets changed from her hips, her shoulders, her sides, to the stomach, the back of the head, the back of the knees. More than that, there was the outstretched arm. Both tambo come up, around, slam down toward her arm, a flick of his wrists adding even more force. This didn't hit either, but instead of blocking with magic, Ashura actually tried to avoid the blow, dancing a step away. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough to make him smile. Half a step and he was back in range, twirling on the balls of his feet, bringing the tambo with him, and aiming to slam them into her back. 

It connected. There was a shout of pain for the briefest of moments, and then he was left stumbling as Ashura literally disappeared. Something in reports he could barely remember reading had warned him about the possibility of a move like this, and immediately he was turning, tambo held like a shield between his hands. It was the right move, as the second he had turned around he saw the flash of movement and felt, heard, easily took the force of a blow from Ashura's short staff. For half a second their eyes met, hers flaring with outrageous fury, Nida smiling, and then she was gone in a flash of light. 

To say that it wasn't fair to be fighting someone who could literally disappear around the room might have been an understatement. No, the honest truth was that it was an understatement. Yet there was little that was fair about being in a fight with a sorceress. They had advantages that even a well junctioned SeeD couldn't begin to rival. In the speed, in the magic, in their ability to hold back blows however it was that they did it... No, none of it was fair. None of it was right. Not that a SeeD didn't have their own ways to combat a sorceress, ways that were to their own advantage. 

His hand comes up, tambo held loosely, and his fingers pressed lightly against his temple. Almost instinctively his breath slows, his eyes flicker closed, and on one exhalation it comes, in a rush: Salamander's name. 

For a moment his mind roars with fire and energy. Then absolute silence. Then, finally, he's groaning, his stomach is roiling his head spinning, and he's slipping into trained instinct instead of real thought. Eyes search the room even as he instinctively slips into a defensive stance. Already he could see the damage Salamander had wrought on the room: the char marks on the floor, the sparks coming off of the computer systems, and even the walls seemed to have been kissed by smoke. And there, halfway through the turn, he finds her. Doubled over in pain, looking up at him with pain and hatred, she looked ready for murder, and he was sure she was capable of it. Worse, he was certain he was capable of it too. This was a situation of kill or be killed, and Nida had no intention of letting the latter happen. 

Better, in the end, that he killed her and they had a sorceress that was new to their powers wandering around than to let a powerful one come up behind Irvine, ruin everything, and get away with other SeeDs not knowing about it. After all, it was not only his responsibility as a member of Squall's alliance and a son of Vascaroon to stop the Zebalgans, but a more pressing and memorable goal of stopping Sorceresses who would seek to bring war to the world. 

“Know that I take no pleasure in this,” he apologized, advancing with his tambo held carefully in his hands. “It is my duty.” 

“Say what you will, but we all know that we take pleasure in the power we have over others. I know better than most!” 

Even as he's lifting the tambo for a quick but fatal blow Ashura's hand swings up. Her defenses were strong, but he was certain he could break through them with as tired as the Zebalgan sorceress looked, and so he didn't bother to find a way around her defense. Worse, he didn't consider how she could turn the attack to her advantage. He wasn't expecting her hand to spark with energy. Wasn't expecting the flash of blinding light that came the same moment as his body went rigid save for his open and screaming mouth. 

There were few pains that quite rivaled that of a lightning spell. Wind cut and battered. Water battered and made one panic for the fear of drowning. Ice chilled, threatened one with frostbite, and stung terribly. Fire seared and scorched, a lingering kind of pain that left one moaning and weak. Earth magic shook and broke bones, a deep and unrelenting ache. Poison had its own way of sticking with a body, or so Nida had learned since encountering Joshua. But lightning... It made you want to fall to your knees screaming as your body felt like it was being torn apart by fingers of burning pain. Even when it was done it didn't mean you were free of what it did to you. The brain, the body, all of your muscles ran on electrical impulses. For minutes after the magical energy died down the body still twitched. Fingers didn't obey the command to grip. Legs had trouble coordinating to stand. The mind span as it tried to figure out just what had happened. In the end you were left with your skin burnt from the energy, your body shaking, and trying to figure out how to overcome what had happened.

If it hadn't been for training, for experience, it might have been the end of him. And if it wasn't for the GFs it would have been terrible. As it was he could feel Siren and Salamander almost winding themselves around his mind, cutting him off from the pain. Not before it had started, not before it had left him screaming, not before he wanted to just end himself. This wasn't emotional pain, it wouldn't end just because the beings in his mind sought to protect him. But it was enough for him to almost distance himself from it as he felt the tambo tumble from his spasming hands. Because of them he knows an instant before it happens that his knees are going to give, and he collapses to the ground, his hands not even reaching to catch him. He even enough left in his mind to almost wince as his head slammed against the floor, he bit the inside of his cheek pretty painfully, and his mouth all but lolled open from the pain. 

Then, it's gone. No more pain, only the ghost of it. Well, no, that isn't quite right. His head hurts, his body hurts, his mouth tastes more like blood than it had when he'd been slammed against the wall. His fingers are still twitching, as if grasping after something that wasn't there. Not that he let it stop him. He'd experienced this kind of pain before, and while it was a strain, he immediately started to push himself up. Who knew how much breathing time he'd have before Ashura started into him again. 

Getting his head up was the hardest part. Pushing his arms under him was difficult, but lifting his head from the floor was hard. His vision was swimming, his head spinning, and when he tried to breathe he tasted blood. When he lifted his eyes he found Ashura's there, golden and gleaming, staring down at him in triumph. Problem was that he had no intention of rolling over and dying right now. 

The name comes to his lips, unwanted, unsought, but undoubtedly needed. For the shortest of moments his mind starts to feel warm and fuzzy, cushioned and cradled and safe. The pain is distant, fading, almost a memory as he's wrapped in the immateriality that came with summoning. 

The relief is gone before he can even process what it means. In his mind Siren's voice screamed with unconcealed frustration and sorrow. Something had gone wrong, horribly wrong, and Siren was, for a lack of a better way to describe it, pounding at the borders of his mind, demanding to be released. Something had sealed her in, and from the way that he could still hear himself coughing, it wasn't a silence spell that held her at bay. 

His eyes opened, and in at brief moment he almost had to stare in shock at what was presented to him. Ashura was gone, and in her place stood a towering woman that could only be a Guardian Force. Towering was the only way to describe her, as her head came just short of the ten-foot ceiling. For a long moment the woman stood there, looking down at him with something akin to pity in her face, and giving him an almost painfully long moment to examine her. Her skin was the color of rich mahogany, her hair like spun gold, and her eyes a painful sight, a poisonous sorceress gold that every now and then flickered to a clear and pure green. She was clad in a simple robe of white that flowed around her like it was caught up in the wind, except the air around them was still. But what marked her, more than anything else, as a Guardian Force was the thin, transparent, fluttery wings upon her back. 

At last the summon moved, raising a hand towards him. He could see her lips moving, in an incantation or an apology, and he felt the air in the room seem to pull in towards her. For a moment he couldn't breathe. Then the winds screamed back out from her with a force that almost lifted Nida to his feet before slamming him into a wall. But it didn't end there. The GF's hand cut through the air, slashing out at him. An arc of water formed along the path that her hand cut, and as she raised her arm in another cut the arc of water shot through the air, slamming into him with almost bone-breaking force. Four such blows slammed into him before the air seemed to sigh in the way that it did when a GF withdrew. 

Nida was left to collapse into an almost boneless heap on the floor of the room. 

_Do not hold the actions she was compelled to take against her,_ Salamander's voice crackled in his head, quiet and low as if to protect him. _Such is what can happen when the powers of a corrupted Sorceress force one of our kind against their nature._

_Is Siren..._

_What is it about your bloodline that leads you to regard ancient spirits such as us with such kindness? Many others view us more as a tool. A utility. Nevermind. There is something that your kind is not aware of that relates to GFs. But now is not the time to speak of it. What needs concern you is that Siren cannot be wielded against the holder of Sylph. You will have to face this without her strength._

_Not exactly the most heartening news._

_Nonetheless I am certain you will prevail._

Nida was far less certain. There was really only one choice left to him, and he didn't even want to contemplate the costs of it. 

“You have a beautiful determination to you,” Ashura crooned as Nida slowly started to push himself to his feet. “A fire that keeps you moving despite the fact that we both know your body is about to fail. If you could only see how broken you are. Tell you what, child, I shall offer you a trade. Your life for your service. I lack a knight, and while I do not require one, you are proving yourself more than worthy of serving me. You have displayed a foresight that, while unable to rival that of the true heir, will benefit me in my ends. Join me here and now and...” 

When Nida reached his feet he turned his head to the side and spat, half to clear the blood from his mouth, half to show his disdain for the offer. Ashura glowered at the action, and raised her hand to charge a spell. 

“Do you really think I'm going to fall for that offer?” he asked, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. Or at least he hoped the gesture looked casual. “I'd sooner die. You forget, I've known three knights. I've seen one brought low mourning for his wife and Mistress. I've seen another forced to become something he was not in the service of another before he found a way to break free of her. And the final had the worst side of him drawn forth. I know the world you want to see come forth, I know what the powers you seek can do to this world. Really, did you even begin to think that the offer would be even slightly tempting?” 

“I know more about how the minds of men work than they care to admit. With enough pressure even you would fold. Unfortunately I don't care enough to see to providing that pressure. So I shall simply do away with the annoyance that you represent. And in the process claim two new sources of raw power for myself.” 

_And that is why GFs are not to fall into the hands of a sorceress. They not only can corrupt our power, but draw upon it to fuel their own,_ Salamander observed, in an almost off-handed manner. _Now, are you going to drink or not?_

Nida wasn't even remotely surprised that the GF in his mind had seen through to the heart of the matter. After all, the creature had a unique seat to view the conflict from. Any action that Nida took, any thought he had, the spirit was privy to. In fact, Nida realized he'd almost been waiting for the ancient creature's input on the scheme. The edge of approval in its voice, approval mixed with worry, was all he needed to pull the vial of what looked like water from his pocket. 

“A curative? How cute. I doubt that it will help you much, but by all means, give me a bit more fun,” Ashura laughed as Nida uncorked the vial and lifted it in a mocking toast in her direction. 

For all that the liquid looked and smelled like water, it tasted like bad gin and burned like fire going down. That and the way that the burning spread rapidly through his body assured him that this was the vial he'd been looking for. The sensation was the textbook description of what it felt like to consume one of the rare, potent, and frightfully dangerous concoctions known as a Hero Drink. 

Of all of the magical concoctions that Esthar had developed through the use and manipulations of para-magic, there was nothing that had quite the same effects as a Hero Drink. Potions were distilled medicinal tonics that were a mixture of actual herbs and chemicals known to speed the body's healing processes that were infused with curative magic. There was, supposedly, a GF retained by the Esthari government known as Unicorn that worked with trained technicians to create the healing properties of various levels of potions. Phoenix Downs and Pinions were known to be the physical echoes of the power of the Phoenix summon, freely and happily given by the GF to the world. Other magical concoctions were the result of years of experimentation, careful chemistry, and magic. All of them placed a cost upon the body. Healing potions made one tired later, as they drew on the body's own resources, just like a spell. Poison curatives and other 'status' healing items left a mental or physical burden upon the body later. Aura spells channeled adrenaline into an easily focused form that left one tired and confused afterward. None of them compared to what this rare item did. 

SeeDs that might find themselves on critical missions that absolutely had to be completed were often given a tiny vial of Hero Drink, called a Hero Trial, in the hopes that it not be needed but in case it was. The liquid was commonly said to make one invincible. Any SeeD worth their training knew it wasn't true. It didn't make one immune to damage. It made the body completely capable of ignoring it. It was a mixture of chemicals and magic that made the body release a potent and potentially deadly combinations of hormones, endorphins, and chemicals that forced the body to ignore pain, to move as much as possible except in situations where the body was actually physically incapable of it, and narrowed the mind to a razor sharp focus. The duration depended upon the amount consumed, and the vial that Nida had was a full sized one. It would grant him up to five minutes of unrestrained energy, of power, of force that he would pay for. Enough to put him into a coma if he wasn't careful of how he treated his body. Because every blow was still a blow. Every drop of blood lost was still a drain. He wouldn't feel the pain, couldn't understand how badly he was hurt unless he actually lost his ability to move a body part. 

A Hero Drink let you keep moving, keep fighting, beyond the point when the body realized it was dead. 

“Alright... Are you ready to resume?” Nida asked, striding forward to where Rupio lay on the ground. Slowly he bent over, resisting a sigh of relief as the burning sensation spread through his chest and across his back, taking away the terrible pains that had been there only moments before. Yes, this should be enough, just enough, to end this. 

“What did you...” 

The second his fingers wrapped around the hilt he was spinning, bringing the blade up, lunging forward. Faster than even he could believe he was inside Ashura's range, the crimson blade dancing through the air to try and cut at her flesh. The speed was what got her. She hadn't expected it, nor had Nida, and so the blade had cut across her chest—albeit shallow—before she could react and disappear out of his range. 

_Seven o'clock_ , Siren shouted. Maybe he couldn't use her against the sorceress, but apparently her senses were as sharp as ever. 

He span again, the blade lashing out almost of its own accord, striking the place that the Sorceress arrived. Again the blade met flesh, he could feel the resistance of her skin for the half-second before it split before the sharp edge of the sword, then she was gone again. Another time Siren's voice called out to him, and Nida moved before thought, scoring another blow as Ashura appeared out of thin air. Again and again this happened, until at last Nida felt it, a swelling of energy that he hadn't expected. A fire in his veins that cut across even the feeling free burning void of the Hero Drink. An energy that could only be from the mixture of natural adrenaline and a motivating fact that was always hard to put into terms. 

As Ashura appeared this time, Nida let the feeling overflow him, filling and screaming in his head for release. All he had to do was embrace the energy. Close his eyes and give in to the force that wanted to propel him forth. 

When he opened his eyes the world around him was different. It seemed to be moving in slow motion, no, slower than that. It hardly seemed to be moving at all. The only reason he could see that time was still flowing was because of the smoke that seemed to fill the air around him. Either he was dreaming or the visions of the future were starting to leak into the waking world. Not that it mattered in this moment, Nida pushed the concern aside and let his mind revel in the way that the tendrils and coils of smoke slid through the air, wrapping everything and yet hiding nothing from him. The smoke slid easily apart as the barely moving world passed through it, moving up and around, and coiling into turbulence in the wake of whatever moved. 

Yet what was truly amazing in the moments he lived in it was the movement that existed faster than time seemed to. Shadows cut through the smoke at what seemed to be normal speed. They whispered to him of possible futures. Where Ashura would go, how she would react, to different blows, where he had to move to be where he needed to catch her despite her bests efforts. In the space of that smoke he knew exactly what he had to do, how he had to move. A quiet corner of his mind told him that it wasn't possible to move as fast as he needed, to get to where he had to be. That he was never good enough with a sword to achieve this. No, this needed the speed that Elijah had, a speed Nida had only ever seen twice, that he'd only faced once, that he'd barely managed to protect himself from. Elijah had once told him that when he moved that fast it didn't matter how good the other person was, they were dead by the third blow if he wanted them to be. The only reason Nida had been able to face the thing the first time had been because his dreams had hinted at where he had to be to defend himself. He'd had an edge then. Now the question was whether he could use this energy, this vision of potential futures, to end this fight? 

Carefully he watched the different paths of the future, chose, and started to move, echoing the paths of the shadows. The first blow slashed across the stomach of the sorceress. The second slashed at, and through, an arm that was lifting to block his attack. 

The final blow started to cut through the air even as time fitted itself back into place around him. Nida watched his own arm become practically a blur, black turning into crimson, moving to meet the pale column of Ashura's neck. It wasn't a cut that was far enough forward to have to deal with her spine, but he wasn't surprised to feel the blade easily part the flesh of her throat. There was blood, almost everywhere, but that didn't bother Nida so much as the shadow that seemed to pour from Ashura's throat with the blood. 

Almost immediately the air was filled with a sickening, cloying scent that made his body shake despite the effect of the Hero drink. The shadow rose from the blood, a cloud of pitch black smoke that screamed of evil as it filled the room. After a moment the shadow seemed to pull itself into a tighter form and it hurtled right at his chest. For all that Nida couldn't feel when it struck him, he still collapsed as the shadow passed through him. His knees failed, tumbling him to the floor even as his stomach rebelled. He emptied the contents of his stomach and the heat of the Hero Drink faded from his body. For all that he'd had more time, something in the hateful presence that was the escaping power of the Sorceress had cleared the power from his body. 

The dark energy swirled through the air, spinning back before him. Clearly the thing wanted another go at him. It wasn't hard to tell from what it had done to the power of the Hero Drink and what he'd heard from others who had faced a sorceress before. The power of this had knocked out a full squad of SeeDs, leaving them weak and powerless to stop the power of Ultimecia from entering Rinoa's body. Not for the first Nida was certain that this was an event that he didn't want to experience for himself. 

Even as the energy seemed ready to lunge forward—how could he even tell—something changed. A point of light rose from Ashura's body. Well, no, light wasn't fully the right term for it. Light was kind of a pure thing, and this was almost oily. Yet the longer the light existed free of the body, the more pure, radiant, white it became. At last the light seemed to resolve into the ghostly form of the GF that had been so recently used against Nida. Ghostly and far smaller form, making the summon look like a little fairy. This time her eyes were only a vibrant green rather than flashing with gold. 

The presence of the ghostly GF seemed to upset the darkness, as it almost seemed to start trembling at the very sight of the miniscule woman. The GF's hands rose, held out as if trying to cup water, and from her hands shone forth a great light. The light almost seemed to quest out, searching for something, until at last it almost engulfed the darkness. The cloud of malevolent energy started to writhe, attempting to escape, only to be drawn in as the light started to fill the room. 

_What's going on?_ Nida demanded of the presences in his mind. 

_One of the true purposes of our kind being fulfilled._

It was all the answer Salamander gave, and the way his voice was almost reverent worried Nida as he watched the being the GF had referred to as Sylph suck in the darkness. Then, once the cloud was finally gone, fully absorbed into the hands of the sparkling creature, there was a blinding flash of light, and a mournful goodbye that seemed to echo in the air. 

For a moment he stayed there, doubled over as the pain returned to his body, his eyes useless from the flash of light. Then, at last, he could open them and see. There was blood everywhere. From the Sorceress, from himself, from places he couldn't remember. There were char marks on all of the walls, and the wall that he'd been slammed into by Slyph's power had a dent in it. 

“What in Hyne's name just happened?” he managed to gasp out around the pain suddenly surging to life in his chest. 

_Do not remain still. There is much left that you much accomplish. The coyote will need your assistance. Hurry,_ Salamander insisted. _I will speak as you work to catch up with the other. I fear that he is in far greater danger than even you were._

No shit. Hadn't Irvine already admitted that he wasn't sure he could stop his grandfather? While he claimed that he would see Boyce stopped or dead, Nida wasn't sure he _could_ kill the man. 

All he could do was turn his attention inward, gathering the energy he could command from Siren, to reach for the higher end curative spells he had access to. Carefully he directed it about his body, trying to shore it up against the worst of the pains he'd been able to catalog during the fight. Even as strong as the magic was, he knew it wasn't enough to wash away the fatigue, or to deal with all of the ills. His body was sore, there was still blood in his mouth, and the healing would only manage to help him if he kept himself out of combat from now until he was healed properly. 

_There are many things about we being you call Guardian Forces that are unknown to mortals. No,_ Salamander corrected himself, _not unknown. Forgotten. Once humanity knew more of our secrets, in the days between when your ancestor walked the face of the planet and the believed fall of the Cetra. But the world has changed greatly since then, and knowledge that should not be lost was. It as forgotten that when one of our kind is possessed by a Sorceress we are a two edged sword. We grant them power despite our desires, and in turn if we are with them upon their deaths, we absorb their power. No Sorceress can pass along her power in this way, even in the presence of one who could take it on._

_Once this was something that the so called daughters of Hyne were willing to embrace. The power we gave them helped them to live their lives without the need for a knight to ground them, allowed them to live in secret and peace, and still allow them to help their people in silence. And upon their deaths they gave themselves over to our kind, making us stronger in turn. Those GFs which absorb the magic of a sorceress become more powerful, greater than we ever were before._

Nida could sense Siren's affirmation of Salamander's tale as he pushed another wave of curative energy through his body. At last he felt strong enough to move, and slowly he rose to his feet. Elijah's sword was carefully lifted and cleaned his blade on the cleanest part of Ashura's robe that he could find. 

_The strongest of GFs are those who have absorbed the most power from Sorceresses,_ Siren offered. _It is that which creates the division that the human Veringas has noted. Salamander has taken in more than Ifrit, and is thus stronger. But there is a side effect. When we absorb the power of a Sorceress, we fade back into the place we come from for a time, so that we may grow and change as we are fated to do. When the right time comes, Sylph shall again be upon this world, to fight beside those who would stand against those who would use their god-gifted power against others. Or to willingly join into bond with a Sorceress who wishes to not see their power pass on to another. Such is our role._

Silently he contemplated the information that the pair of GFs gave him even as he gathered up and cleaned his tambo. Once they were back in place in the harness on his back Nida wiped the blood on his hands across Ashura's robes. Then, sword in hand and another curative spell falling from his lips, he turned toward the door that Irvine had fled through. Though his body begrudged him every step he still forced it forward. There was no chance in hell he was going to abandon Irvine when his cousin and fellow SeeD might need him most. 

“Now,” he said as he passed through the door and looked at the stairs leading deeper into the complex, “tell me what happened with Siren...”


	41. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here. Still writing. Still tormenting one of my favorite characters ever. But soon, my few and far between readers, there will be relief. Maybe.

The stairs were their own little vision of hell. He'd only made it to the first landing, about thirty treads down, when he grew certain that he hadn't gone nearly far enough to stabilize himself. If the pain in his breathing was any sign he had definitely cracked a rib when he was thrown against the wall. The magic had done nothing for that, nor the more nagging of his pains. But it was enough, continued to be enough, for him to all but throw himself down the stairs, the voices of his GFs distracting him more from the pain than his ends as they filled in the blanks of his knowledge.

_There are rules of how our powers work,_ Siren was explaining as Nida grabbed a support for the stairs and used it to turn the corner to the next flight while loosing as little momentum as possible. _Rules that humans only barely touch upon. You know of the limitations of summoning the... lower forms as Veringas described them. Well, in a way I exist as a lower form of her. I am a lesser part. As such I cannot act against the greater portion of my being. I am to Sylph as Ifrit is to Salamander and so on and so forth for many of our kind that you are unaware of._

_So kind of like a tentacle of an ochu can't attack the ochu itself?_

That earned him a disgusted sound from Siren. _Oh I should hope not. Those creatures are just..._

_That isn't on subject, Siren,_ he chided her. 

_And you are the one that compared me to a..._

_Enough,_ Salamander reprimanded them both, his tone brooking no argument. _There is much left to be achieved. Turn your mind to the task at hand, not upon the things which hinder._

And like that, the pain was gone. Not fully gone like it would be with a hero drink, but a distant and hazy kind of gone that he recognized from once before. 

_I didn't ask for this,_ he grumbled at Salamander as he flung himself down another flight. 

_Many things come to us that we do not ask for or desire. We must do with them as we can to make the best of our lives._

_Yeah? Well, tell me that next time you have a broken rib._

That earned him a rumbling chuckle, which was almost more frustrating than the fuzzy feeling in his head. The worst part was that he wasn't even annoyed by the meddling of the GF. Mostly because he couldn't feel annoyed at the moment. Honestly, maybe it was better when the GFs were still dormant in their minds, pushing aside his memories. Better that than the unknown that the pair of powerful beings had over his mind. 

_You should be thankful._

_Tell me that again when when this is all over._

_Speaking of over..._

Even as the GF spoke, Nida could feel Salamander's fiery awareness force his eyes toward the next landing below the one he had just reached. From here it seemed that there wouldn't be another flight down from there. While it didn't mean that the end was truly in sight, he was hopeful that it would well and truly be the end of stairs. Because Nida wasn't quite sure how many more of them he could take without doubling over in pain. 

_Fear not, all shall play out as has been foreseen._

Hardly a comforting thought. 

Still, his feet hit the final landing far too soon, and Nida stole a moment to suck in a greedy breath. The very attempt to let his chest swell with air almost doubled him over from pain. No doubt about the broken ribs then. Not that there was time to deal with it right now. Instead he unsheathed Rupio, carefully adjusted his grip on the sword until he was content with it, and pushed his way through the door that announced he was on sublevel 19. For the life of him, he didn't want to ponder just what that number might mean for the return journey. 

Irvine had clearly been through the hall that the door opened into. There was no other explanation for the two bodies that lay, half on top of each other, at the far end of the corridor. The pool of their mingling blood was a clear sign that Irvine had opted for the quick, hard to argue with force of the Exeter. Not that Nida could blame him. Fallen at the side of both bodies were assault rifles, a display of force they hadn't encountered before this. Most of the Zebalgans—and Nida was sure that the forces they had encountered were Zebalgans from the way they avoided shooting at Irvine and prominently wore red armbands—had been wielding tasers and other weapons meant to disable, not kill. Hell, the one time before this that they'd faced someone with a gun, it had been a shotgun loaded with beanbag rounds. There was still a pretty serious bruise from where the beanbag round had hit him in the leg. Granted it was no where near the worst of the injuries he was dealing with, but it was still a bit of an irritation. 

But these two, Nida found when he stooped by the bodies to check their fallen weapons, had been carrying live ammunition. Whatever what was beyond this door, whatever they had been protecting, had been far too important to guard with anything but live rounds. Of course that had done nothing to protect them from the trained reflexes of a professional of Irvine's caliber. The only question Nida had was whether or not Irvine had given them a chance to surrender before he'd shot. More likely than not they wouldn't have attacked Irvine without prompting, not if they recognized him as the heir that their leader was looking for. 

For all that he had never been the best with accuracy, Nida wasn't about to pass up the opportunity that the weapons presented. While a gun wouldn't have been enough to turn the tide against Ashura on its own, such a weapon might have made the confrontation a tough easier. He didn't even hesitate to snatch up one of the assault rifles, slinging it over his shoulder even as he reached for the other to remove the magazine. For half a second Nida wished he still had one of the duffel bags he and Irvine had brought with them for the trek. Yet most of the gear stowed in those had been meant for climbing, and had been left in the main stairwell that they'd repelled down. He wondered in passing if the gear would still be there when they returned, but as it wasn't a pressing concern, he instantly turned his mind from it and to the more pressing problem: the closed door the two bodies were sprawled before. 

The door the fallen pair had been guarding was different from most of the others that they'd previously encountered. Most of the others were standard research facility things, made of metal and glass. Some had simple locks, nothing more than standard, physical key operated tumbler locks that Nida could handle with his eyes closed. A few hadn't even been locked, nothing more than partitions between areas. Several others had long ago been operated by maglocks that hadn't taken much more than rewiring or a few seconds with some of the electronics Nida had brought for dealing with that very kind of obstacle. But the one before him now, this door clearly kept him from what had once been a highly secure area. Nothing like hand or eye scanners—such things might have been more of a hindrance than a help in a research facility that likely had a bit of turnover on staff—but the lock at the side was about as complex as the hardest things that he'd been trained with. Even with the right equipment it could take several minutes to get through the door. 

Several minutes that a brief glimpse through the small window in the door suggested that Nida might not have. 

While he couldn't see much through the window, he could see the distinctive view of Irvine from behind. After all, it was rather hard to mistake Irvine's coat, hat, or long pony tail for anything else. Yet what really worried him was the tension in Irvine's posture. How many times had Nida seen him like that before, when they were in the middle of a training session, shoulders heaving from the strain of his exertion? Of course it only made sense now because from the limited view he had, Irvine's staff was clearly in his hands. Which meant that Irvine could only really be after one target. Unfortunately, no angle that Nida tried for really gave him the expected glimpse of Boyce.

_It may not be the place where..._ Siren started to caution Nida, but he waved her thought aside. 

_I'm certain,_ Nida countered, swinging his newly acquired gun back and digging into one of the larger pockets in his pants. _Irvine wouldn't be defaulting to his staff if he'd already used Exeter unless it was Boyce in there. For all that he says he'd take the guy dead or alive, I think he's no more capable of killing Boyce than he would be capable of killing me. Orphans and potential family..._

There was no response, at least nothing but a supportive sensation from Salamander. Which was good, because honestly Nida didn't want to get anything more from either of the GFs. What he had to do now was get that door open and through it so that he could help Irvine.

_At least you get to finally put your hand to something you're trained in,_ Siren teased. 

“And what do you think I was doing with the flying?” he snapped, almost too irritated to delve into a mental conversation. The truth, though, was that it took a surprising amount of focus to have a conversation in your own mind. Far less hard to talk to the empty air. And right now he needed far more focus than a mental conversation would allow. Fighting with other presences in his mind to observe things for him was different from hacking a lock. 

And speaking of hacking, Nida turned his attention to the device he'd pulled out of his pocket. Siren was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Infiltration was his training, not head on combat. It was a kind of spying where the idea was to never be known to the people you came among. Instead he'd had to live with going among strangers with his name pretty much broadcast from the corners of every room. He'd been trained as a ghost, not a rallying point. Never before had the survival of a friend—of someone who might even be considered family—rested on how well he did his job. No, that wasn't quite right. All of his training inherently supposed that there could be lives riding on his work, a large number of them. But he'd been trained to work alone whenever possible, and having the life of someone he had come to know as well as he knew Irvine was something he'd never really been prepared for. 

Nor was he used to the concept that he could end up working with someone whose survival was potentially more valuable than the completion of the mission objective. 

How long had it been since that day in the forest where he'd beat Zell, Quistis and Selphie solely by the virtue of being willing to give up his life for the mission?

_I need silence for this,_ he warned the pair in his head before kneeling down by the control pad that operated the door. How Irvine had gotten through this, he'd never guess, but he was pretty sure he knew how he was going to make it through. The question was how long. 

* * * * * *

There was only a soft click to herald the lock releasing. Still, it was what Nida had been waiting for, even if the sound made him want to wince. Soft was it was, it still sounded impossibly loud to Nida, and he couldn't help but worry that it would be heard in the room. Unfortunately there was little that could be done about it if he had been heard. Better to operate as if he hadn't, and plan for if he had. Carefully he eased the door open, wedged the butt of the second assault rifle between the door and jab, and took a moment to ready himself. 

He could approach the situation from a number of ways. The gun, if he could get a clear shot, might end things quickly, and had the distinct advantage of taking Boyce out before the man could use whatever power it was that had almost forced Nida to join him previously. A body would be a terrible thing to have to carry back out of here, though, and he was certain that a body would be the minimum need to force the Zebalgans to admit to their leader's demise. 

Elijah's sword was another option, and one that almost felt poetic. The range would be valuable against Boyce's two-handed axe—if he had the thing at hand—and there was a certain pleasure to the thought of killing Boyce with Elijah's blade. But, if they did take Boyce by force and lead him out of here, the blade might disable him to the point where he'd be more of a pain than a body would be. 

Then there were the tambo. Their effective range against a weapon like Boyce was known to carry was laughable at best, and for deflecting the weight of a double-bladed axe they could hardly be expected to suffice. Getting in for any sort of blows would be difficult at the very best, but it would make taking a captive easier. 

For the first time since entering this place, Nida found himself regretting the fact that he hadn't brought one of his polearms with him. They'd be useful in a position like this. If, of course, he'd left any but his metal bo and the...

_No,_ Siren whispered to him, voice low and gentle. _This is not the time to remember such things. The little wolf needs you now. Can you not hear him?_

Even as she whispered Nida could feel the GF marshaling her power, stretching her awareness out and almost pulling words through the air to his ears. That didn't mean that he didn't have to strain to pick the words out from among the other sounds in the room, especially a rather loud fan that he was certain either had to be exhaust or bringing air into the room. 

“...his eyes. Except he never looked at me with so much...”

“Disgust?” Irvine offered, sounding like he was spitting the words out. 

“Disrespect,” Boyce countered, his voice sounding more annoyed than anything else. “He understood what it was to give respect to his elders.”

“Respect is only given where it is earned. Which you could never hope to do. Kind of lost all chance at it when you decided you were meant to take over the world. So I'll give you one last chance. Surrender or die.”

“No, Irvine. I shall give you one chance. Join me and submit to your fate, or continue to suffer the loss of your friends and allies until such time as you see that my will is the only one that shall be satisfied.”

It seemed as good a time as any, so Nida stood, shifted the assault rifle into his hand, and pulled the door open as smoothly as he could manage. The intent was something disdain for the whole situation, though he doubted that it came off like that at all. That said, his entrance did earn him a flinch from Irvine, and a look of pure shock from Boyce as he strode into the room, leveling the gun at the would-be Zebalgan King. 

“Nida,” Irvine all but whispered in something like relief even as Boyce cursed, “Nomura.”

“Guilty of both,” he assured them as he advanced, keeping the gun trained on Boyce. How likely was it that the man knew how poor of a shot Nida was? Would Irvine remember Nida admitting such early in their training together, and know not to leave it to his ability to shoot? “I'm sad to see that you guys started without me.”

“Ashura?” Irvine asked, sounding half worried. 

“Dead. And not a concern. I'll explain later. But honestly, Irvine, I was expecting you to have wrapped up things by now.”

He wanted to say more, wanted to hint at things that he couldn't say outright, but there was no chance that he could trust himself to do it. Boyce had worked with Garden before, not just Trabia, but Balamb as well. Careful turning of words to get a more useful message across would be too much of a risk. The last thing he wanted, after all, was for Boyce to find out just how injured he was. This wasn't something he was certain they could deal with if it came to a fight. Worse, Nida wasn't sure if he could keep control of himself if Boyce really did have some sort of power over him and chose to exert it. 

“Good to hear. Sounds like we've got a pretty clear line to haul him out of here.”

All Nida could do was nod in agreement, for all that he didn't agree at all. There was no way to be sure there weren't more Zebalgans in the complex, that Boyce would come quietly, or that they could stop him if he didn't. 

_When did you become so pessimistic, little dove?_ Siren asked, and Nida wasn't sure he had an answer for her. The closest thing he could offer to one might be that he was tired. But that didn't make sense, did it?

“You managed to defeat Ashura?” Boyce asked at last, looking like didn't believe it at all. 

“Defeat? No. Kill would be the more accurate term. You know, it strikes me that working with a sorceress was hardly the best plan you might have had. After all, didn't you call for the heads of sorceresses early into your little war?”

“Ashura was not a...”

“If you ever trusted my words before this, believe me when I tell you that the woman was a sorceress,” Irvine cut Boyce off, sounding quite annoyed. “That woman was...”

“Psychotic,” Nida offered, resisting the urge to tell Irvine just what she had done to the GF in her possession. This wasn't the time for story telling. 

“You can't have done that,” Boyce insisted, looking quite disbelieving. “Ashura is...”

“Dead,” Nida repeated, as levelly as he could manage, before stepping to Irvine's side and gesturing with the gun in his hand. “Same as you'll be if you don't cooperate. Because I'm frankly tired of all of this shit, Boyce. I'm tired of your war. I'm tired of this suggestion that your people deserve to rule over everyone. I'm tired of your myths about the power of Hyne waiting to be unlocked by Irvine. And I'm, frankly, tired of all of this bullshit hurting people. The only reason I'm even entertaining the idea of bringing you in alive is because Irvine's insisting on it. Because it would be easier to just shoot you and have done with it.”

“Nida!” Irvine gasped. 

“Shut up, Irvine,” he snapped. “You know I'm right. This man is a menace, as much to us as he is to his own people. You saw my report on what he has ordered his own people to do. Their lives mean nothing to him. Prophecy means nothing to him. The only thing that matters, the only thing that drives him, is mastering the power he thinks is out there, waiting for him. It's about power, like it always is with a tyrant. And I'd sooner see him dead than rising to the level of Adel, or Ultimecia. It's our responsibility as SeeDs to prevent this kind of abuse.”

“You can't mean to...”

“It's what I'd do in his position.”

Great, just what Nida needed, Boyce's agreement. If that didn't keep Irvine from siding with him, nothing would.

“We can't just kill him,” Irvine insisted, right on cue. 

“We can,” Nida countered, turning slightly to meet Irvine's gaze. 

_He comes,_ Siren's voice cut through the argument, and all Nida could do was jump back a step, more out of instinct than any real idea of what was going on. 

The instinct is good—unsurprising considering the fact that he had actually spent time with Seifer, Veringas, and Siren training to react the moment the GF ordered him—and before his feet even touch the floor again the head of Boyce's axe is flashing past his face and slamming into the floor before him. There's all of a half a second for him to register the look of shock on Irvine's face before he hits the ground and the gun is pushed aside to unsheathe Rupio. Without so much as a thought, Nida felt Siren and Salamander sliding into place in his mind, mingling themselves with his magic to better support him. Ultimately he wasn't sure whether he should be thankful to the GFs or worried that with them awakened they could force their powers into him whether he liked it or not. 

“Nida!”

He doesn't wait long enough to figure out what Irvine intended to follow that cry with. Instead he shifted his shoulders and arms just enough to test if he'd have the full range of motion he needed, then threw himself at Boyce even as the man raised his axe again. 

“You can't kill me anymore than he can,” Boyce insisted, a cruel smile on his face. 

“Try me.”

“Oh, unlike my dear grandson, you _want_ to do so. Quite strongly from the way your eyes burn. But you are not capable of it. You cannot face me. You will not face me. The fact that you are able to raise that blade against me for even a moment is just a sign of your stubbornness, not any true chance of harming me.”

The confidence with which Boyce spoke was almost sickening, and Nida threw himself forward, blade flashing. The man, old as he was, was faster than even Elijah's hints about him had implied. The axe was up in a defensive posture long before Nida could even think of trying to pierce the man's defenses. The next, anger fueled blow was much the same. This time, though, he didn't have a chance to pull back from the blow. Instead he felt one of Boyce's hands clamp tightly around his wrist, his grip so tight that Nida couldn't pull away from it. 

“Stop this foolishness,” Boyce hissed. “You will not fight me. You _cannot_ fight me. Let your rage go and serve me as you were meant to.”

“I'm not meant to...”

“You will not fight me. _You cannot fight me._ Surrender to the knowledge that is already there in the very core of your being. You were born to serve, as all of our bloodlines are. And you were born to serve me.”

The words, the confidence behind them, only made Nida angry. Immediately the words of a powerful wind spell came to his lips, but even as he opened his mouth to call forth the power, he found himself unable to move. It wasn't just his mouth either. His muscles seemed to be locked into place, neither willing to push forward, nor to withdraw. He felt frozen, not unlike he would with a stop spell, except he knew that what was holding him back was a different kind of magic. 

Boyce had ordered it, and Nida could do nothing but obey. Any question he might have had before as to whether he truly had some Zebalgan blood or not was finally laid to rest. 

There must have been some sign in his expression, or maybe the simple fact that he was still for so long, but at last he heard a chuckle, and the axe was moving away from the block. Instead of carrying forward his arms relaxed, lowering themselves to his sides, the sword held in a too-loose grip at his hip. No matter how hard he tried to fight, he found himself to be utterly still, unable to move, unable to even scream in fury. 

“What have you done to him?” Irvine demanded. 

“His body recognizes its master, even if his mind does not. It keeps him from doing what he should not do.”

“So this is how you lead your kind? Through mind control? You sicken me.”

“Be that as it may, boy, it is what it is. And it is why I shall be victorious.”

“No, you won't,” Irvine insisted. Nida wished he could see the expression on his face, but the position he was in wouldn't allow it. Still, he heard the sound of wood on metal, which meant that Irvine had dropped the staff, likely to take Exeter back up. 

“I would not do that, if I were you.”

“You're not me.”

“Nomura. Defend me.”

His body was thrown into motion before the order even registered in his conscious mind. Despite trying his hardest to keep from moving, his body turned on the balls of his feet even as he pulled the sword to the ready position. 

“Nida...” Irvine said, and this time Nida could see his expression. Something akin to shock and betrayal registered for half a second before resolution. 

“You really think that is going to stop me?” Irvine demanded, shaking his head. “SeeDs of our level know that the mission is more important than the people in it. Stopping you matters more than getting out of this alive. So long as one of us makes it to bring your head to Squall, nothing else matters.”

“I don't believe you,” Boyce insisted, his voice hard as Nida found himself moving between Irvine and Boyce, stepping right into Exeter's sights. “Elijah and Xu both reported that you two were close, a product of the training together.”

“Maybe you're right,” Irvine admitted, his voice low as he slowly let the barrel of his gun fall. Nida wanted to shout at him, insist that he do whatever was necessary to deal with Boyce, even if it meant his own life. 

“I will spare him if you unlock the secrets of the magic of Hyne for me. We are already here, as we are meant to be. All you must do is your destiny...”

It was impossible for Nida to tell whether Irvine's laughter angered Boyce or not, but the sound of it was comforting. 

“You really believe that this is the place?” Irvine demanded, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose you couldn't know better. Then let me tell correct you, Boyce. I've seen hints of the place in my dreams, and I know what it feels like. You've picked the wrong place for a final confrontation. This isn't the place. You've wasted our time.”

“I see... Well, be that as it may, I have you both within my power. That alone is worthwhile.”

“Within your power? Really? I think we're looking at very different scenes here.”

He must have been charging the spell for a while, because there was barely any difference at all between when Irvine raised his hand and when the light of the spell filled the room. The light was too bright, far too bright, and when it faded it was replaced by a darkness so deep that he couldn't see at all. A blind spell then. But what had Irvine hoped to achieve by it? 

“Attack him!” Boyce shouted, and immediately Nida found himself lunging forward, sword coming up before him wildly and finding nothing but open air. On the inside Nida found himself smiling. Hyne bless Irvine for coming up with a way to render his uncontrollable body useless to Boyce. 

_And now it is our turn, Eagle,_ Salamander's voice crackled in his head. Except the roaring of the GFs flames didn't seem to fade when the creature stopped speaking. Instead the mental sounds of the fire rose in his mind, consuming all other noise. He couldn't hear himself think, much less the sounds of the room around him. 

_Such is the point,_ Salamander pointed out amid the roars of the flames. _You cannot obey what your mind cannot hear. Worry not, Siren will signal me when I may free you from this._

It seemed like an eternity there, caught in a place where he couldn't see, couldn't hear. Then, as suddenly as the darkness had overcome him he felt the soothing wave of an Esuna, and the crackling in his mind faded away. The first thing that registered in his sight was Irvine standing in front of him, a sad smile on his face. 

“You okay?” he asked, and Nida could easily hear the fatigue in his voice. 

“I should be asking you,” Nida countered, and marveled at his ability to speak. Whatever control Boyce had held over him was gone. 

“I had the ability to control myself,” Irvine countered, shaking his head. “You weren't kidding about the power he seems to have over Zebalgans.”

“No,” Nida agreed, carefully sheathing his sword. “What happened?”

“Look for yourself.”

He didn't have to look far to find Boyce crumpled up on the floor, his axe fallen beside him. There were, so far as he could tell no wounds to account for his fall, which suggested that Irvine had knocked him out with a spell. Yet considering the fact that all of the Zebalgan leaders before Boyce had proven to be junctioned, and well junctioned at that, Nida was certain that a sleep spell wouldn't have done it. Wordlessly he looked towards Irvine, and the gunner just shook his head. 

“It's hard to believe, but I'm telling you that it was a sleep spell. Mixed in with a fireball. He was focused on dealing with the fire, I think he might have been trying to shift his junctions to deal with it, which left him open to the sleep spell.” 

It seemed ridiculous, impossible, improbable at best, and yet there it was. Boyce was fallen on the floor, his mind was clear, and Irvine was standing beside him relatively unharmed. How... No, just accept it and move on. 

“How do we deal with him now?” Nida found himself asking. As much confidence as he'd had when he told Boyce they just had to take his head, he was positive that Irvine wasn't going to allow it. 

“We drag him out of here with us. I'll take him in my flier, because we can't risk him coming conscious in yours.”

He wanted to argue with Irvine, but the look on Irvine's face brooked no arguments. Not even a pulling of rank. Whether Nida was defaulting to him because this was Irvine's family, or because Irvine was the heir, was a question, but he just nodded and took it into stride. 

“Well, we've got a little problem with getting back,” Nida admitted at length. “Ashura fucked me up pretty bad. I'm not looking forward to those stairs in the least. And climbing back up... Irvine, there is no promise that we've cleared this place out, and I'm in no condition to make up for it.” 

Irvine took it all in stride, calmly collecting his staff and replacing it in the sling on his back before pulling Exeter back out. All Nida could do was watch as Irvine checked what ammo was loaded into his gun, obviously trying to work out how much ammo he had and of what varieties and whether it would be enough to get them out of there. At last he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, and from his expression he didn't like it in the slightest. 

“Give me that.”

What the 'that' was wasn't even a question. Nida untangled himself from the carrying strap of the assault rifle and held the weapon out to Irvine, who instantly put Exeter away and checked the assault rifle out. Once he was done Nida tossed the extra magazine in Irvine's direction, which the gunner caught almost without thinking. 

“You're going to have to carry him.”

It had gone without saying, and yet Irvine had insisted on saying it anyway. Maybe it was meant to make it clear that he was in charge now. Maybe it was supposed to remind Nida that they weren't going to be doing away with Boyce. Or maybe it was simply that Irvine had felt it needed to be said. Either way Nida resisted the urge to groan at the pain he knew he was going to have to take to do this, and started over towards Boyce's fallen form. 

This was not going to be anything approaching pleasant. 

* * * * * *

It turned out that the trip back to the fliers wasn't even approaching miserable. Miserable, Nida noted in hindsight, would have been relatively pleasant. Instead he was certain that there wasn't actually a a word that fully encapsulated just how the trip out had felt. The weight of Boyce on his back only made the strain on his ribs more painful. Nor did it help that just before they were strapping Boyce into a harness to haul him up the main stairwell, he felt the tell-tale twinge in his arm that suggested maybe his ribs weren't the only things that would need special care. By the time they made the surface his back was aching, his leg almost felt like giving out, and the way Irvine carried himself made him look like he was about to collapse under the weight of both of their packs of supplies—picked up on their way back up the main stairwell—and the fatigue of controlling the firing power of Exeter for so much time. 

True to Nida's prediction, the complex had been no where near empty by the time they had reached Boyce. Either some kind of alarm had gone off when they reached Boyce, or there was some kind of party that all the guards had been rushing towards. As they made it to through the corridors Irvine had cut down fighters left and right, he'd run out of ammo for the assault rifle before they crossed Ashura's room. They had reached the surface a few minutes short of Irvine being flat out of basic ammunition, meaning he might soon be forced to lay down pulse rounds. 

“I'll hold this if you'll...” Irvine said, turning his attention back towards the entrance to the complex. 

“I know,” Nida admitted, continuing his shuffling pace towards the further flier, the one marked with the navy blue of Balamb Garden rather than the pale blue bottom and drab gray top of the Ragnarok's ships. All he had to do was get Boyce to Irvine's ship, buckle him in, stow the gear on both fliers, and then hold the door long enough for Irvine to get out of there. Since Irvine was the one taking their prisoner, it only made sense that he got out of here first. Besides, he had every intention of triggering the emergency beacon on his own flier, and bringing Fujin in to deal with the place. 

“You sure you can handle it?”

His only response was to scoff, which was more than enough for Irvine apparently because he turned on heel and raised his gun, checking over his ammo yet again. It left Nida alone to shuffle towards the flier. Alone with nothing but his thoughts and an unconscious man on his back. 

“Stop.”

A conscious man on his back. Fuck. 

_Si..._

“You're going to let me go. You're not going to say anything.”

No voices leapt to his defense in his head. There was nothing but silence. Silence and Boyce's voice bouncing around in his head. 

His muscles offered no protest as he felt Boyce's arms push against his shoulders. His ears registered the sound of Boyce's boots hitting the ground. And his body would not move to stop the bastard. Instead he stood there, stooped over, staring into open space before him. This made no sense. Hadn't Elijah said that Boyce had only been able to make him do something that he, on some level, actually wanted to achieve? Then why was he rooted in place, almost unable to blink? Did he really want Boyce to get away? Was he a traitor on some level?

“Boyce, if you don't stop right now, I swear in Hyne's name that I will shoot you where you stand.”

Apparently this time all it took to shake Nida out of his revere was Irvine's voice. The tambo came out even as he turned to face Boyce, who had made his way towards Nida's flier. From the corner of his eye he could see Irvine had turned as well, Exeter leveled quite plainly at Boyce's back. 

“I really don't think you're going to...”

Boyce didn't have the chance to finish before Exeter barked, and Nida watched as Boyce flinched and stumbled forward a step. The stumble turned into the old man falling to his knees, a hand going to his shoulder as he went down. 

“You...”

“Follow through with what I say I'm going to do. And I won't hesitate to shoot you again.”

“You could really do that to an old man?”

“If he couldn't, I'd at least be happy to shove a tambo right in the wound,” Nida offered, striding towards the point where Boyce was doubled over in pain. 

“You'd enjoy that a lot, wouldn't you, Nomura? I expect you get that blood thirst from your mother.”

“Who knows. Who cares?”

“I won't let you have this victory,” Boyce said, pushing himself to his feet.

“There is nothing you can do about it,” Irvine insisted.

“There is one thing. Your victory means nothing is you don't have my body to prove it.”

“We'll have your body,” Nida assured him, rushing forward without the need for a gesture from Irvine. 

A combination of the sharpened senses from Siren slipping back into place in his mind, the haste spell that washed over him from Irvine, and the lack of belief for what was happening conspired to make the whole world look like it was in slow motion. Even as he threw himself headlong into a run that he knew he couldn't maintain, he could see Boyce getting his balance back and starting forward. No matter what, Nida was certain that he could make it to the flier before Boyce was in and got through the start-up routines. 

Except Boyce wasn't heading for the flier. As he neared it Boyce didn't grab for the cockpit hatch. Instead he ducked under the nose of the flier, still moving with as much speed as he could handle. There wasn't anywhere else to go in that direction. The platform ended abruptly several feet beyond the flier, leaving nothing but open air and the ocean below. Nothing but death awaited in that...

Fuck.

If only he was Zell or Selphie. They were almost bottomless wells of energy, and even injured as he was, they would throw themselves with wild abandon at the fleeing man. But his leg hurt, his chest screamed with each breath, and it almost felt like he was going to stumble every time he strode forward. It didn't matter. Nida didn't have it in him, and there was a desperation fueling Boyce's legs that defied logic. All Nida could do was reach out, in vein, as Boyce plummeted over the edge, disappearing from sight with not so much as a whisper. By the time he reached the edge he had already heard the splash, still he slid to a stop and looked over. The waters were rough, choppy and rippling where Boyce had gone in. No body had come up yet. Because that was what they would have to look for when there was a fall from this height with a man shot in the shoulder. There was no way he could survive the fury of the ocean as waves slammed repeatedly against the support structures that held the flight deck up. There was no chance.

“Nida!”

“He's gone!” Nida shouted back. Or tried to shout. Really, it came out as more of a whisper than anything else. 

“Nida?”

“He's gone!” he shouted, putting more into it this time. 

“We don't have time for this,” Irvine insisted, coming up behind Nida. Had he been there, staring over the edge for longer than he'd thought? “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

“He's...”

“Made his mind up. We've got to get out of here. Get into your damn flier and get back to the Rag. I'll get in touch once I've finished getting yelled at by Squall. Be prepared to redirect the Rag to Balamb, because I'm sure you'll be in for one hell of a debrief. Now go!”

Habit, or maybe just shock, found Nida obeying, his feet and hands moving despite his mind, just like when Boyce ordered him around.


	42. Chapter 37

“I should have your head for this.”

“You've said that twice before,” Nida pointed out, barely even bothering to turn his gaze from the bottom of the shelves above his bunk. 

He really didn't need to do it anyway. Looking at the computer monitor across the room on his desk would only confirm the scowl that he was certain Squall was wearing. Well, maybe not confirm, what with the distance making Squall's expression harder to read, but he knew it would be there. Knew it just as he had known the right hook was coming when Fujin met him on the flight deck of the Rag. Just as he had known he wouldn't find any mercy from Raijin either, not so much as an icepack to deal with the bruise that was already darkening his left eye. Nor did it help that Fujin had immediately demanded the relinquishment of his GFs, because while they had both known it would not keep him from healing the bruise if he worked hard enough to fix a cure spell in his mind, they also both knew that if he did anything to take away the proof of her fury would only earn him something worse. Maybe even a broken leg, which Nida was certain she was capable of considering how banged up he already was. That, he was certain, was the worst part: Fujin hadn't even given him a chance to heal up, or see the ship medic. 

So, by the time his computer had made a noise to tell him that Squall was demanding his attention, Nida already had himself secure in his bunk, staring at nothing, and trying not to think about the sharp pain in his chest. To be honest, he hadn't wanted to hear Squall's voice, to listen to his superior chew him out for doing what he had known he had to do. But avoiding Squall wouldn't begin to help the situation, and so he'd pulled his comm from under his pillow, hit a few keys that would tell his computer to turn on and answer the call—he had set it up when he first got back to the room out of boredom—and then pointedly refused to look at the computer screen. 

“The threat was empty the last two times. This time...” 

“This time it's as empty as the last. At best you'll have my rank like you've threatened before. You're welcome to it. You're welcome to it, my command, my commission, anything you want. Except my cabin in Winhill. Sorry, I'm keeping that. So I can have a place to go to when this is over.”

It was the length of his retort, or the content, or the fact that he'd even had the balls to cut Squall off mid-sentence that led to the long, almost grudging silence that filled the air. At last Nida thought he heard something but without Siren to augment his senses he couldn't tell if it was a sigh, Squall mumbling, or just the sound of his computer. Either way, Squall seemed to shift a bit on the screen, maybe shaking his head. 

“Just once I would like to come up with a punishment for high level SeeDs that will stick.”

Nida actually chuckled at that. “Of course you can't do that. When it comes right down to it we aren't the kind of people who are going to take any punishment seriously, except for maybe Quistis. No, that isn't true. I suppose you could ban Selphie from trains and sugar, or force Zell to spend time with Seifer. By the way, is that why you really paired those two up? Just what did Zell do to piss you off that mu...”

It was an overwhelming sensation that something had changed which brought his wise crack trailing to an end. For a moment he cast around with his senses to find the source, but without Siren there to augment them the effort was for nothing. While he hated it, he had clearly grown dependent upon the enhanced perception that the GF offered him. Even when he wasn't junctioned to her he had come to draw upon her abilities when he could. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't figure it out for himself with some effort. Almost instinctively his hand to the metal wall beside him, and he had only to touch it to know what was wrong. The vibrations had changed, and in knowing that he could hear the difference in the running noises of the Ragnarok. Without thinking he threw himself from the bed and started toward the door, ready to demand an answer from Fujin. It was only as he thought of her that he remembered his situation. So he turned his attention instead to his computer and all but stormed over to it. 

“Why are we landing?” he demanded of Squall, and only waited long enough to note the look of confusion and irritation flash through Squall's eyes before pressing on. “Where are we?”

“You're landing?” Squall asked, sounding genuinely confused.

If Squall didn't know than that meant it wasn't at Balamb. In fact, when Nida thought about how long it had been between his return and this moment, the time was no where near enough to reach most major cities. Which really meant only one thing: they were back at Battleship Island. 

“Battleship Island. She's come back to try and find Megill's body,” he mumbled, more for himself than anyone else's sake. Still, it was loud enough that, being at the computer, Squall could hear him. 

“Megill's body? There's more going on here than has been reported,” Squall observed, leaving Nida no other option than to stare at his commander in shock. 

“You don't know what... I mean, I didn't have time to tell Fujin everything, not with you having a standing order to lock me up in here. But surely Irvine...”

“Irvine has yet to return,” Squall pointed out rather calmly. Which, when Nida thought about it, made sense. Balamb was further from Battleship Island and the Deep Sea Research Center than the Ragnarok had been, what with the mobile command center being stationary at the moment. If Fujin hadn't told the Commander—General—much, well, that meant he didn't know much of anything at all.

“Yeah, I can see why that would be,” Nida admitted, sighing. Or more like wincing since the very action hurt more than he cared to admit. 

“I'll have a full report from you once you've seen a medic.”

No, Nida thought to himself, Squall wouldn't. There were some things that were too sensitive to be sent over this kind of communication channel, even if they thought it was secure. Ashura's existence was one of them. Which meant that Squall was going to have to wait. That wasn't going to be something pleasant to tell Squall. He'd have to hope that the medic part came before Squall started to press him on details. 

“I could use one,” he agreed. “Or some good time with a GF. But neither is likely to come without Fujin's express orders. Someone told her to put me on lock down, and she intends to obey...” 

“I'll have word with her. Focus on resting until the medic arrives.”

“Nothing I'd like better. Just make it fast. I'm pretty sure at least one of my ribs is cracked.”

The screen went black long before he had the chance to finish, leaving the complaint hanging in the air. Oh well, hopefully there would at least be some progress soon. There was little he could do beyond stretch back out on his bunk. Not that it was really enough for him. Sooner than he would have expected Nida was going for the journal hidden under his mattress. If he was going to be stranded in this room while Fujin did something that was patently fruitless, well, he was going to have to find some way to pass the time. 

* * * * * *

Sometimes the easiest way to deal with pain is pure and simple sleep. As much as he was certain that this was one of those times, Nida found himself at a loss for that very important and very basic form of healing. There was, he had decided, no point to trying to find sleep while he waited for the medic to arrive and deal with him, and so he spent what felt like hours in the bunk, staring at nothing, and waiting. In the end he had started to nod off just as a gentle rapping at his door told him that the medic had arrived. The male that had followed the knocking was one of the younger medics on this ship, only about two years Nida's junior, and a Trabia Garden cadet that was clearly less experienced than his Galbadian and Esthari counterparts. Apparently he'd done more to piss Fujin off than he'd expected, a fact that the medic hadn't hesitated to point out when he observed that she had denied even him the necessary GF to truly jump start the healing process on his ribs. Yet the medic had orders to get in and out as quickly as reasonable, and so once he'd bound Nida's ribs and given him a cold pack for his eye, the young man had left, leaving Nida in the silence of his room. 

By the time another knock had come at his door Nida had decided that when he saw Squall he was going to resign from SeeD, if he wasn't dismissed first. This had never been the life he wanted to live, had it? When he really thought about it he could remember what it had been like when he'd first come to Garden. How he'd cried, as much for the loss of the only woman he'd ever known as his mother but also because he hadn't wanted to become the kind of person that Garden students were supposed to become. 

Not that he regretted his time in Balamb Garden. His friendship with Elijah had meant a lot to him before the Sorceress War. The love—and lust—that had developed between them over time was something he didn't want to lose. Where would he have been without Garden, anyway? Would his dreams have manifested in a more sedate life like Winhill had offered him? If they had would it have been Andria who noticed and approached him? Would she have had the kind of hesitation regarding his visions that Elijah had hinted at in his journals, or would she have taken him to Boyce without a second thought? Would he have had more time in Boyce's presence, ultimately letting him be swayed by the power at the Zebalgan leader's command? 

Would, even now, Elijah be alive because Nida's visions had saved rather than doomed him? Would Boyce be dead? So many questions, and none of them important in the grand scheme of things. There was no changing the past, only the future, and he had to accept that as something that was set in stone. Anything else could tear him apart. Chasing the past rather than the present or future was a doom in and of itself. One he didn't look for but found himself courting of late. 

It was thoughts such as these that the knock finally came, followed almost immediately by the door sliding open. Which meant only one thing: Fujin. Not, by far, the person he wished to see. She'd have questions, ones he wasn't sure he was ready to face, and accusations that he wasn't sure how to answer. It didn't help that she'd clearly not understood the little information he'd intimated if she'd bothered to seek out Boyce's drowned corpse. Then again maybe she'd held out a belief that Boyce had survived. Nida wasn't sure he agreed, not with the injury Boyce already had when he'd jumped. Swimming with an injured arm was difficult enough, and only worse in ocean water. The water was cold and the waves unrelenting, hard for even someone uninjured near the shore. The lack of any nearby beach only furthered his certainty that Boyce wasn't going to be an issue anymore. 

And yet... something gnawed at his mind, at his guy, something that said this wasn't even remotely near over. 

“Nida...” she started when the door closed behind her. Her voice was the softer, more open tone he knew meant this wasn't going to be a conversation of short exclamations. Yet it was the use of his name over his rank that told him the most. This wasn't going to be a conversation among comrades-in-arms. No, it was going to be more intimate than that, and he wasn't in the mood for it. 

“Colonel Venti,” he responded, and as predicted she froze almost mid-step. There was a look in her eye that he couldn't read, but her posture told the tale well enough. The minute signs of a defensive stance were all he needed to know his words had hit home. 

“Sir,” she amended, giving him further confirmation, “We've had word from General Leonhart. I am to debrief you on what has come to pass. Then you are to write a report that is to be submitted via the usual channels.”

“No.”

That earned him one of the most bewildered looks, quickly covered up by a severe frown. Almost made the exchange worth it by itself. Too bad such an attitude would have to continue if it was to be effective. And it meant burning bridges in a way he was certain to regret. 

“This isn't a request. It's an order.”

“If memory serves, you have no right to give me orders, Venti.”

“What? I have orders from Squall...”

“Show me them.”

All she responded with was blinking. But Nida didn't let it rest there. He had to roll forward. There was some things he would not allow to be transmitted. Some things were better reported in person. 

“I am your superior officer still, right? The 'sir' would imply it. Even on suspension I am your boss, and you can't just order me to do something. Written orders are the only way you'll get what you claim to need from me. Get me those written orders or you get nothing from me.”

“This is foolish, Nida,” Fujin warned him still holding herself defensively. She wasn't sure what to do and it showed. 

“This is foolish, 'sir.' And I didn't give you permission to speak freely, in case you were curious. In fact, let's make it official. I don't need or want your opinion.”

The look on her face wasn't something easily read, but there was a fuming below the surface that even a blind man could have seen. Good. Right? Well, he wasn't sure but he had committed to it and wasn't backing down. So time to give her the chance she needed. Slowly, lazily, he swung his legs over the side of the bunk and hauled himself to his feet. Two short strides and he was in range. 

“Tell Squall if he has an issue with that, he can do something about it. Until then, get out of my room, Colonel.”

There was a force behind the slap that could only have come from the augmented strength created through junctioning. It was a blow that turned his head to the side so fast he was sure he'd have to see the medic to check for whiplash later. As it was he could already feel his black-eye stinging from the slap The new bruise would certainly accent the old ones well. Elijah had always said purple suited him. It wasn't true by a long-shot, but that was just that. 

No, the blow was something else, something more. As he stood there, letting his head stay where it had come to rest, Fujin turned on heel and strode from the room. A voice in his head that wasn't his own or that of a GF mocked him for achieving his ends. Easier to quite, to resign, to walk away from all of this if he severed his ties first. Better to start here and now, burn the bridges fast and bright. 

It was the only way he could let them go later. 

* * * * * *

It takes another three refusals, one in the face of actual written orders from Squall that he cooperate, before his refusal really seems to register. By that point, almost six hours after his return to the Rag, the whispered story on board about Fujin confining him to his quarters became clear. The young medic as returned to his room to deal with his injuries with a GF this time, and as he worked he whispered the rumors of the ship. Some people said Fujin was a Zebalgan or staging a mutiny. Others said Nida was being reprimanded for his disappearance. Others said he was under arrest for whatever he'd left the Rag for, while still others suggested there had been another assassination attempt and that this was for safety. A few said something closer to the truth, suggesting that he was hurt in a fight with a Zebalgan leader or on a special mission. Nida had sent him on his way with instructions to trust and obey Fujin, and to claim he was too badly hurt to wander around, especially in light of previous assassination attempts and whatever he'd been doing. It was a vague enough answer to answer nothing, yet enough from a resource who could believably let something slip on accident and still comfort the crew in his shame for letting anything drop. 

Was it weird that even as he was thinking about getting away from this life and yet still looking out for crew moral? 

So it came to six hours and three refusals before any real sign of progress came, and when it did it was in the form of Raijin holding a carefully sealed and excessively fat envelope. Clearly this was to be Squall's latest attempt at getting Nida to obey. Not that the clearly formalized orders were likely to do that. 

“Marching orders, ya know?” Raijin said as he lay the packet on Nida's desk. “You've got two hours to pack before Fujin throws your ass off her ship.”

“My ship,” he corrected, more out of hand than serious about it. Raijin's words were the sign he'd been waiting for. Already he'd noted the Ragnarok had taken back off, which meant they had given up a clearly fruitless search. They would be bound for Balamb now, though he was less than confident they'd make it there in two hours. Still, he rose and made his way for the order packet. 

As justified and expected as Fujin's slap had been, the left hook Raijin dealt him was truly unexpected. It was more training than real thought that let him catch his weight on his side when he fell. Still, he could feel a sharp pain in an ankle that he was sure meant that it had at least been twisted in the fall. Wonderful. Was this insult to injury or injury to insult? Did it matter? Either way it was frustrating and yet well earned. 

“Stay down.”

Slowly, careful of his tender ankle, Nida made his way to his feet. Raijin growled and he barely had time to make his feet before another punch, this time a fist to his gut, knocked him to the floor. Again the growled threat, again Nida stood, and again he was felled, this time with an elbow to the side of his face. Two more times this happened, until at least Raijin didn't threaten. He pleaded. 

“Man, just don't get up. Can't you see this ain't ending until you...”

“Does Fujin really need you to protect her?” he asked, spitting blood from his mouth. The last punch had cut his cheek open on a tooth. Just what he needed. “Strikes me that she'd be furious that you even tried to do this for her. She's strong enough to handle her personal issues on her own.”

“Being in the posse means ya ain't got to do on ya own no more.”

“This is between her and me, not us. So either back off or keep trying to pound my skull in. We'll see whose resolve fairs worse.”

After a moment Raijin took a step back, raising his hands to show he meant no more harm. That said, Nida carefully rose, preparing himself for another hit. When none came he finally relaxed, closing his eyes and focusing himself onward to reach out for his magic. Before he hadn't been willing to risk the blind healing of a cure spell on wounds like his, but the new pains were enough to find him latching on to the deeply buried magic and pulling a cure to the forefront of his mind. Even the briefest touch of the magic would be something. 

Except the wave of healing that flowed over him wasn't the brief and gentle touch of a simple cure. No, there was more force, more relief, than he could have hoped for. The only answer for how was the large man behind him that had been the source of these recent hurts. 

“Thanks,” he said, even as he made his way for a towel in his dresser to clean the blood from his formerly split lip. 

“Life's easier when the guy that hits ya heals ya.”

True enough. The punches got out the aggression and anger. The healing meant that there really were no hard feelings. It wasn't a way of living available to most people, but sometimes it was what soldiers and mercenaries needed to get past tensions and just work. Through the beating Raijin had made his feelings over hurting Fujin known. In the healing he'd declared the matter behind him. Which meant that when Nida turned and saw Raijin's arms open for a hug, there was no real way for him to turn it down. 

“Just be gentle with me. The medic said I've got a broken rib.”

“Cracked,” Raijin corrected, but the way he chuckled meant he understood. 

The hug was brief, if painful, and when it was done Raijin dumped him, almost bodily, into a chair. There was a look of pity on his face, but it was tinged with annoyance. For a moment Nida wasn't sure why. Then it hit him like a load of bricks. It wasn't that he'd gone off to face Boyce or that he wasn't explaining himself or even that he'd hurt Fujin. No, it was that they had been left behind. He hadn't warned them, hadn't explained himself, hadn't even apologized, he was supposed to be a part of the posse, and he'd abandoned them. They were meant to have his back, ordered to two times over, and he'd denied them that right. It didn't matter that he'd needed them to handle the Rag, or that he hadn't wanted to risk them, or that they hadn't been in his visions of the future. He had left them behind with no explanations and they held that against him. 

“I'm sorry,” he found himself saying, for all that he hadn't intended to do so. Raijin deserved it, more than Nida had been willing to admit. “I didn't think. About any of this. I promise that it wasn't anything more than absolute ignorance on my part.” 

“Which hurts in its own way, but I get you, ya know? Ain't like we ain't seen things like this from Seifer. Just, you're supposed to be smarter, ya know?”

“Supposed to be and are happen to be very different things.”

“Ain't I know that. Well, you owe Fujin several different kinds of apologizes, but there ain't no time for that right now. You've got...” Riajin glanced around for a clock and shook his head when he found one, “an hour and a half to get ready.” 

“Ready for what?” Nida asked. He gestured to the stuffed packet and frowned. “I imagine those are fully formal and would take most of that time to read and process.”

“You were asking for it,” Raijin pointed out. “Consider those Squall's first punishment because he refuses to see you until you've read them all. Anyway, they basically are your transfer orders. Squall's recalling you for some special assignment and handing command over to Fuu. That Esthari captain guy is being given a field rank to assist in the matters that only you really knew how to handle. We'll take care of things here, but honestly Fuu would do better if you weren't here, ya know?”

He did. He understood it all, had been after it in truth. Didn't mean it was any easier. 

“How am I going? Surely not the Rag...”

“Naw, we've been redeployed as well. Zell's having trouble with a ground fight outside of Deling. Apparently they found a few tanks, ya know? Need air support.” 

“Then how...”

“You're being given a pilot and one of the fliers that can't drop bombs. Squall doesn't trust you flying back on your own.”

“I deserve that.”

“Ya do.”

“I really didn't need you to agree.”

“What else is a posse for? Anyway, I offered to help you pack up. So we best get to it.”

* * * * * *

“He won't kill you.” 

Those were the words that greeted Nida when the flier landed in Balamb. Were it not for the deadly serious look on Irvine's face as Nida tossed his bag from his lap and into Irvine's hands, Nida might have thought his cousin was joking. As it was when he looked at Irvine he could read between the lines and see what he meant. Squall wouldn't kill him, but he might come close or make Nida wish he was dead. Just what he needed. A new reason to feel like shit. 

“He's threatened to have my head,” Nida responded, almost conversationally. It was hard to admit how much it strained him to maintain that tone. “Of course he's done that a few times and so far as I can tell my neck is still intact.”

“Nida...”

“We did what had to be done,” was his response as he climbed from the cockpit. Even as he reached for the storage hatch Irvine cleared his throat. So Squall wasn't going to accept any delay then. The bags would be taken whenever Squall wanted them to go. Which made him thankful that Elijah's journal was in his pocket. He didn't need to give Squall more ammo. Holding what would be seen as vital intel privately for so long would see him worse than decommissioned. Squall would find something between court martial and firing squad to threaten him with. “Careers have benefited from that.”

“Men have been ruined by that,” Irvine countered, and the way he said it made Nida think of Seifer. The point was too true to be denied. Well, hadn't he expected as much? 

“I imagine I'm to see him directly...”

“Actually, word has reached Kadowaki about your injuries. She refused to allow you to be brought anywhere other than her when you got here.”

“Now you hand me over to a fate worse than death. Last time I saw the Doc I promised not to get seriously hurt for at least three months. I kind of failed in that.” Disappointing the Doc was never a wise way to get ahead in life. Even if she was tacitly offering sanctuary. 

“She wanted to check up on your arm, by the way. And the leg. And your head because you seem to be clinically stupid,” Irvine laughed, even as he gestured for Nida to proceed him. 

“And if I don't want to see her?”

He could hear Irvine freeze behind him and try to process what was just said. Honestly, in Irvine's position, he might have had the same reaction. As it was he waited patiently for Irvine to come to whatever conclusions he needed. 

“Seriously?”

“Do I sound like I'm kidding?”

“He won't be expecting you...”

Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If he wanted to go to Kadowaki he could easily buy himself time to prepare himself for Squall. Yet the battle Squall would have to go through to get access to Nida once he entered the infirmary would more than just frustrate him, earning Nida no sympathy. Not that going to Squall while clearly in pain would win him anything anyway. Squall would see through that easily enough. Yet in the end a less frustrated Squall would be preferable to deal with. 

“Take me to him.”

There was a sigh, and then Irvine was passing him, clearly intending to lead him to wherever Squall was. They went in silence, but only until they were relatively alone. Then, instead of leading, Irvine dropped back to half a step behind Nida, as if to respect their differences in rank. The truth was that it was ideal for Irvine to whisper frantically to Nida. There wasn't time for much, but he made time for an overview of what he'd told Squall in his own debriefing since his relatively recent return. It didn't tell him anywhere near everything, much less what had happened between Irvine and Boyce before he'd arrived, but it was something. 

And more importantly, it told him that Irvine hadn't spoken about what tidbits the GFS had offered them. Nida would have to think quickly about what pieces of that he was willing to share. The answer, more likely than not, would be all of it. What was gained by holding it back, especially if the GFs could communicate with each other? Still, he was almost shocked that Irvine hadn't spoken on the topic, through there was a chance it was because he was appeasing the voices in his own head. Voices Nida almost felt lost without. 

They were silent by the time Irvine summoned the elevator, keeping others interested in using the elevator away with a glare that Squall would have approved of. It wasn't until they were in and Irvine had hit the button for the third floor that Nida turned to look at him in shock. 

“Not one of the secure rooms in the sublevels?”

“Squall was certain you'd hide with Doc K, and was going to steal some sleep in his office while he waited for you or word from Fujin and Sell. He'll only have had an hour or so, so don't be surprised if he's grouchy. You know... For Squall.”

It was almost enough for Nida to turn back, but enough people had seen him and Irvine coming here for that to really be an option. So he steeled himself and stared at the elevator doors. 

“Talking to them?” Irvine asked, clearly mistaking the look and the silence. 

“No. Fujin had me hand them over when I got back to Rag. Orders from Squall I think.”

“Really? I hadn't known. We're still running under the illusion that I'm Squall's second here. In truth that white SeeD, Reis, has been brought in for the sake of the Sorceresses, and has been filling my role since my return. Squall isn't exactly happy with us.”

“But he let you keep your GFs?” 

“A good sniper may need to deploy on a moment's notice. Squall has been making use of me in that capacity and won't risk my preparedness like that. I assumed...”

“Fuu and Raijin know how to work with GFs and may need the heightened reactions and senses that Salamander and Siren would offer them. They've proved invaluable in our encounters as my reports have noted. That assumes, of course, that they will talk to those two. But since Fuu is adept with wind magic, Siren may take to her, despite her previous catishness about her.”

Irvine must have read something into what he said, because he could see the way Irvine was staring at him in the highly reflective metal of the elevator door. Nida just did his best to ignore the curious look and prayed the door would open soon. 

Sure enough even as he thought it the doors slid open and he stepped into the almost oppressively quiet third floor hallway. In a moment Irvine was moving past him, giving the smallest of gestures to indicate where they were heading. Nothing resembling neutral ground was to be found up here, and the indication of Squall's personal office only made it clear where all the power would be in this encounter. Why couldn't Squall have at least been on the bridge where Nida was more comfortable? No, that was a ridiculous thought. Nida knew better than anyone that there was no place approaching comfortable up there for even the most tired of men to sleep. He'd tried. 

Irvine's first knock at Squall's door was quiet to the point of nearly being inaudible. Yet before he could pull his knuckles back to knock again there was a double beep as the door slid open. Apparently Squall hadn't achieved sleep after all. 

“Irvine,” Squall acknowledged through the opening door. “You got here quickly. I assume Nida...”

“He is with me now, sir. Refused to see the doctor.”

Squall must have reacted, but with Irvine mostly filling the doorway there was nothing he could see. In fact, it wasn't until Irvine stepped aside that he saw much of anything, and what he did see left him certain of the truth in Irvine's words in the elevator. After all, his eyes were almost immediately drawn to a spot of startlingly bright white in front of Squall's desk. There was no mistaking the uniform of a white SeeD, nor was Nida left wondering as to who it was as Reis Anders stood and turned to face him. Yet there was a sharp gesture from Squall, and Reis froze part way into shifting into the proper stance for a salute. That was a less than heartening sign. Yet it was more than enough of an opening for Nida to snap off a salute of his own. He was sure it looked impressive in his full dress uniform, but he almost immediately ruined the look as his arm snapped into attention position too hard against his cracked rib and he winced. 

“Reporting as ordered, sir,” he gasped out, wishing he could have spoken without the clear indication of pain. 

“I believe the orders included very strongly worded requests from Kadowaki...”

“Which, with all due respect, sir, I have opted to bypass due to the importance of my report.”

“A report which,” Squall pointed out with a sigh, “you have refused to give several times over the past hours. Am I truly to believe that you have suddenly had a change of heart?”

“Sir?” 

“No,” Squall snapped, rising from his desk. “You will be silent and listen. You've been giving me the run around for hours, Nomura. The intel you could have provided, the chance you had to be open and, dare I say obedient, is all but useless and past. I have had to give a powerful military asset over to someone comparatively unfamiliar with her charge when I most need its effective use. I have been forced to deal with repeated insubordination that has nearly killed you twice. I begin to wonder where your loyalties truly lie.”

“Sir, I have to protest,” Irvine cut in, only to earn Squall whirling on him. 

“No, Irvine, you must not. You are no more innocent in this than he is. Your allowing this organization, this war effort to labor on under the false assumption that everything rested on Nida's shoulders was irresponsible at best and destructive at worst. So I will hear nothing form you at this time. In fact, you are dismissed. Anders, escort him to his quarters. If anyone asks you're discussing the possibility of transporting Matron into Esthar for the time being.”

“Yes sir,” Reis said, but he sounded reluctant. At least Nida wasn't the only one who found Squall's outburst unnerving. Unfortunately he was the only one who had to face it now. 

There was little Nida could do but stand there silently as Reis followed Irvine out of the office and the door closed behind them. At first Squall said nothing. Then, with a sigh, he sat back down at his desk. The way he ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes spoke volumes, but not in a language that Nida knew. He'd have to ask Seifer about that later. Surely he knew the little signs that rendered Squall an open book. Not that it was his place to know. It was just something he'd wanted to be able to do for a while. It came from an odd mixture of respect, a healthy dose of fear, and an unhealthy measure of appreciation for Squall's looks. The last part was only unhealthy because he would never want to act on it out of respect and an ingrained awareness that few men appreciated such attention from other men. 

“Sit,” Squall ordered at last, sounding both annoyed and tired. “You, Irvine and Seifer are such headaches. In fact, lately you have been more of a pain than either of them. You've really come far from the potential A level I sent to Winhill before this all started.”

“I'm not the man I was then,” Nida pointed out. “Things have changed pretty seriously since then. Everything has changed.”

“You think I hadn't noticed?”

Nida didn't look up from where his eyes had fallen, namely to a messy stack of paper on the desk. It must be bad if Squall wasn't finding the time to keep the office as tidy as he used to. 

“For one thing you're more confident than you were then. While I cannot approve of all it has resulted in, it is a good change. Having confident SeeDs who can think on their feet and lead are vital. But you've also proven less reliable than I need. It is hard to rely on someone who you cannot predict. I can't have someone driven by prophecy running off like you have these several times, and as Irvine has. Fate or not, people cannot depend on you as they once did, Nida. So what am I supposed to do with you now?”

“I honestly couldn't tell you, sir.” 

Again Squall sighed, running his hand through his hair once more. “I suppose we can start with explanations. Report, and don't leave anything out. I let Irvine get away with it for now, but I expect more from you.”

“Where should I begin?”

“Wherever feels like the beginning.”

The look Squall gave him when he started back at the encounter with Vernon was almost priceless. Yet he stayed quiet as Nida spoke, cutting in only briefly when he had a question or wanted elaboration. Vernon's reference to Nida's family clearly gained Squall's interest, in part because it had been left out of Nida's previous reports. Yet there was little that could be done to learn more now. The village his family had supposedly lived in was nothing more than a memory and if only Zebalgans really lived there then he wasn't likely to find out more. So when Squall let the questions drop, Nida had pressed on, talking about his dreams. All of them. Everything from the dreams of killing Elijah to the paired dreams of running through the Deep Sea Research Center. He admitted he hadn't shared the dreams because he hadn't understood them. He spoke of the growing certainty that he had to act or give up, and how action had been the final choice. 

As he spoke he found himself admitting things that he hadn't realized before. The told Squall about the brief relationship with Fujin resulting in him not telling her about his intentions. The combination of their relationship and the expectations of being in Seifer's posse might have meant they would have followed him regardless of the Rag. Squall had seemed disapproving of the whole thing, though whether it was over the situation with Fujin or the place he had in the posse, Nida wasn't sure. He barreled on to his justifications of fate and dreams and his infiltration training. There, at last, Squall had nodded and admitted that Nida would have been one of his choices to send if he'd actually known about it all. It was with the departure from the Rag that he came to a stop. The only reason he didn't continue was because a frantic beeping from Squall's console had drawn Squall's attention away from him. At last Squall had dismissed him to his room, even as he sent out a summon for Irvine and Reis to join him. Still, Nida had refused to leave until Squall assured him that the Ragnarok and all its hands were safe. Then, and only then, did Nida rise from the seat, salute, and make his way out of the office with a brief comment that he'd be in the infirmary. 

Kadowaki was, by no stretch of the imagination, happy with his late arrival. The first five minutes he was in the room were spent being lectured on obedience to medial professionals. Likely she would have gone on longer had she not gone to poke him in the stomach and he found himself dodging to the side. The the wrong side at that. Bending even a bit to his right hurt despite his ribs being bound, and the wince did not escape Kadowaki's notice. She had him seated on the edge of a bed with his shirt off fast enough to embarrass anyone and was berating him for the latest in a line of injuries with a spirit. Far too soon she was dragging him off for an x-ray of his ribs and a GF powered scan of his healing arm. The arm she pronounced to be adequate, but she spent time tsking over his rib, which had proven to be broken in truth, though still in place by some great deal of luck. While she rebound his ribs and threatened him with a full physical, Kadowaki asked how the injury had happened. 

There were few people Nida had learned never to hide things from, people he should never lie to. Kadowaki topped that list. So, as much as he didn't want to, he admitted to the fact that he'd fought and bested a sorceress, though not without being badly hurt and forced to rely on a Hero Drink. Of course he pointed out that Squall may not have been briefed on that fact yet, and so she should keep the knowledge private. That earned him a smack upside the head for thinking she would be anything but discrete before setting up another series of tests to make sure that there was no leftover ill from the magical energy of the sorceress. At the same time she sent a message off to Squall that he should speak to Nida as soon as possible. As if he wasn't already aware of that. Then again, Kadowaki saying he should see a patient rather than leave him alone would likely grab Squall's attention and likely have him running as soon as he was free. No guarantee, though, that it would happen any time soon. 

The fact that Squall showed up in the infirmary not ten minutes after Doc K sent her messenger was almost shocking. No, it was flat out shocking. He knew that the feeling was clear on his face from the way the Doc shook her head at him before moving to greet Squall. The two whispered together for a time before the doctor finally gestured toward Nida's bed and proclaimed, in a surprisingly loud voice, that she was done with him for now but would expect his return in the morning for further examination. The way Squall agreed made it seem more like he really wasn't playing attention, but Nida could hardly blame him. It all felt more than just a little surreal to be cast out of the infirmary so easily when he was clearly injured. This had to actually be a first for all of his life in Garden. 

Without a word Squall led him from the infirmary, but not toward the elevator and thus office, but rather toward the dormitory wing. While Nida wasn't protesting, he was more than slightly confused by what was happening. Had it really been only an hour or so since he'd arrived? It felt like days. Time seemed to flow differently when a person felt like they had to be on the defensive. His nerves only grew as the turns through the dorm corridors led towards a place he'd only been once before, and then under different circumstances far less stressful than these. Amazing that he now considered Ruth's attack on Balamb Garden to be less stressful. It was almost ridiculous, he mused as Squall brought them to a stop before the door of his private quarters. How long ago had that attack been? Nida could hardly remember any more. It felt like a lifetime. Back then Kadowaki had left Seifer with orders to make sure Squall rested after being shot by Xu. A shot that, looking back, had been an assassination attempt. Had there really been a time before they had become suspicious about Xu's loyalties. 

“Sir, if I may ask...” Nida started as Squall reached for the number pad by the door. 

“The doctor says we both look like we could use a meal and rest, but you need debriefed and I need to be able to get news quickly. The only way to balance the priorities is to use my quarters. Zell oversaw putting in a secure mainframe line for me, we regularly sweep for electronic and magical surveillance, the access code changes gaily, and it has a bed, a couch, and plenty of coffee. If you have a better suggestion...”

He didn't, and when he failed to offer one Squall punched the access code in and proceeded Nida through the open door. With a sigh he followed Squall, not having much of a choice in the matter. The door promptly slid shut behind him and he was left to linger in the living room alone. IT was only when he heard movement in the kitchen—he envied Squall that kitchen, few dorms had them—that he realized where Squall had gone.

“Coffee?” Squall called as Nida entered the room. “It isn't the best, but it's better than what they serve in the cafeteria.”

“Which makes it better than any I've ever had before.”

“Black?”

“Sugar. I can't handle the bitter taste well.”

If he was dealing with Seifer he was certain he would have had to deal with some sex joke. As it was Squall merely nodded in agreement and gestured to a small container on the counter, which Nida retrieved. They were silent until the coffee was ready and they were seated in the living room waiting for the meal Kadowaki had ordered for them and Squall called down to have sent his room when he made the coffee. They had both finished a second cup by the time the food arrived, and Squall had been forced to answer an 'urgent' message from Rinoa regarding the suggestion that the sorceresses be moved to Esthar. Needless to say Squall came to the meal frustrated, and without needing to be prompted Nida resumed his telling of the tale of the last day. Questions grew less frequent as Squall thew himself at the food with a will—the rumors around Garden that said he survived on fear and duels obviously came from people who had never seen Squall eat—but Nida was certain that they would come later from the way Squall would tilt his head when something that caught his interest was said. 

The parts that really caught his attention were when Nida covered everything they learned from the GFs. In fact, Squall stopped the meal and recounting altogether to fetch a pen and paper so he could take rapid notes on the interactions. Those notes would invariably end up in Veringas's hands after Squall tried to pry some information from his own GFs, though whether they would be willing to cooperate or not was up in the air. While Nida couldn't decipher half of the short hand—SeeDs were encouraged to develop their own unique variations on standard Garden style that could only be translated by the creator or with the use of hand-made primers locked in the SeeD commanders office—he couldn't help but note a rather lengthy aside in the garbled writing when he mentioned the names the GFs used for them. Another lengthy notation came with the reaction of the GFs to the energy of the place. The notes stopped altogether when Nida spoke of entering the room where Ashura stood waiting for them. 

“Irvine didn't say much about her,” Squall admitted with a frown. 

“He wasn't around to do so. I rushed him along to find Boyce. Figured that if Boyce was there, it would be Irvine who was meant to face him.”

“Did it not occur to you both that it would be better not to take on a sorceress solo?”

“Of course, and if you had a thorough report from Irvine you already know he said as much and I overrode him. The goal was Boyce. There was no guarantee that we could take her down together. A distraction was needed in the hop[es that with a threat to Boyce's life, Ashura could be made to stand down. Whether it was through her own will or the force of Boyce's power didn't matter. It was a judgment call, and mine to make, so I made it. Such was my prerogative.”

With a sigh Squall waved Nida on, pen once again poised to take notes. At first Nida tried to skim over the fight but it didn't take long for a dark look from Squall to have him giving something akin to a play-by-play on the fight. Squall's attention was likely on trying to find new ways to deal with experienced sorceresses should it become relevant in the future. Yet the notes only became truly frantic when Nida discussed what happened with being unable to summon Siren, how frustrated Siren was over that, and the corruption of the Sorceress controlled GF. The look in his eyes was the most surprised that Nida had ever seen him, and only grew moreso as Nida detailed what happened on the defeat of Ashura and the explanations Siren gave about it all. When he was done Nida helped himself to the remains of Squall's sandwich when he saw a familiar, far away look in Squall's eyes that could only mean he was conversing with Shiva or his other GF. They would be, hopefully, arguing over what Nida said long enough for him to get some real food in his stomach before he had to resume the telling. Unfortunately Squall snapped back to reality faster than he could have hoped for, and all it took was a simple glare for Nida to put down the remains of the sandwich. 

“This brings us to Boyce?” Squall asked as he pulled the sandwich back towards himself. 

“Not exactly. There were quite a few steps and you know how those can be when stressed and injured.”

It felt like it was far too soon after that when Nida found himself admitting to how useless he'd been in the encounter with Boyce. How his body refused to obey him. How as hard as he struggled it was only the intervention of Salamander that kept him from ruining everything. How even then when they made it back to the surface he hadn't been able to resist the voice again. Without hesitation he took the blame for Boyce's escape, for his jump, for his death and their inability to recover the body. He waited for Squall to confirm it, to say anything, but when he didn't Nida pressed on to his return. Carefully he explained the actions Squall had been on the receiving end of. More than once Squall nodded in agreement of his actions, understanding finally when the rationale was laid out for him. The look of annoyance when Nida explained what happened with Fujin was clear, but Squall said nothing at all, even as Nida came to the end and his decision to see Squall immediately rather than going to the infirmary. 

There was nothing to do then. He was out of coffee, there was no food left, and he could hardly leave without being dismissed. So Nida just waited for something, anything, to free him. 

At last Squall looked up at him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“You want out.” It wasn't a question; it was a statement. 

“Yes. I don't think I can do this anymore, Squall. I want to resign when this is over.”

“Alright.”

“What?” Nida asked, utterly confused. “You're...”

“I'm what? Not supposed to accept? No, that isn't how it works. A SeeD, a soldier, who is unwilling to continue his duties to the best of his ability is useless. An unwilling leader is a poor leader.”

“Says the guy who never wanted to lead.”

Squall shook his head at that. “I wasn't unwilling. I was unprepared. Have you seen me back away from this duty since I came into it? No. It only took looking at the other options to know where I was needed. From there it only occurred to me that there was no where else I belonged.”

“What about with your father/”

Squall laughed, honest to Hyne laughed at that question. 

“Here's a secret, Nida: growing up in Garden is a bond that is hard to break. This is the only life I've known. Blood can only do so much in the face of that. Blood is strong, but blood willingly spilled for another is hard to match.”

Nida looked down at his hands, hating how much Squall's words rang true in his head. 

“I will accept your resignation on two stipulations. One, it cannot be accepted until we reach such a point where you can be safely spared form our war efforts. Two, you will be retained for an additional month long period for the sake of working with Veringas to see what further information you can gain from the GFs. At the completion of that month you can resubmit your resignation and I will accept it. Garden will, of course, welcome you at any time for an instruction position in piloting, or as a mechanic maintaining the fliers, Rag, and Garden. You can, of course, refuse these if you desire. But give yourself a chance to think about this first.”

“Squall, I'm serious about this...”

“So am I. I will continue to hold out hope that you will retain your position and then take my offer to travel to Galbadia Garden to help standardize the SeeD programs, especially in light of our decreasing number of sufficiently trained personnel.”

“I'm not going to change my mind. I want out of this. I can't do this anymore. I... want to live something like a normal life. It's hard enough to do as a SeeD. It's harder as someone who is apparently cursed to dream the future. It's impossible with both. Maybe if I return home and live quietly I can be free of this.”

“There are some things we can't be free of, Nida. Eventually you'll learn that. When you do, Garden will have a place for you. It will always have a place for you. For tonight, though, that place is this couch. Get some sleep. There will be follow up questions about your unauthorized mission in the morning, before we turn you over to Kadowaki for a full physical examination. Expect Veringas to badger you through both.”

There was little Nida could do when Squall brought him a pillow and blanket except lay down and try to get comfortable. And pray he wouldn't dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this story, and I will miss it.


	43. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. It's all that Hyne's War has left for you. I'm sorry about that. But it where it was always meant to end. That being said, this isn't the final end. The story continues. Keep your eyes peeled for the sequel, Eden's Chosen, in the coming days. In addition to this there will likely be more than a few shorter stories meant to fill in some gaps. Hopefully they will satisfy. It's been a pleasure writing for the few of you out there that I know read this. So thanks for sticking around. I hope to see you again in the future.

“Nomura, wait!”

Exasperated was not quite a strong enough term for the sigh Nida let loose as he heard the voice calling after him. If there was only one person he'd been hoping to avoid through all of this, none topped the list quite like Dr. Veringas. Since Squall had shared the tidbits of knowledge that Nida had gained from the GFs at the Deep Sea Research Center, Veringas had not let Nida have anything resembling a moment of peace. It had almost been amusing the first time as Veringas insisted that he describe Ashura in detail, apparently not recognizing her until Nida described the pure psychosis in her eyes. Another afternoon had been blown listening to Veringas go on, at frustrating length, about the 'finer' points of the research project at the DSRC. It didn't help that the man was quite perceptive when he wanted to be, and he seemed to want to be whenever it was least convenient for Nida. Like right now for instance, as Nida was making his way towards Squall's office with a carefully wrapped package in his hands. 

Still, nothing was gained from trying to ignore Veringas but a headache, and so he slowed and came to a stop so the scientist could catch up. He was left waiting a while as Veringas apparently decided that, having caught his attention, he no longer needed to rush. His progress from the direction of the library was so slow that Nida finally sat down on one of the stone benches by the central water fixture, and made a show of pulling out Elijah's journal from his pants pocket. Even as he opened the journal to one of the pages he marked as a favorite, he could see the look of amusement on Veringas's face. The man knew Nida wasn't reading, just showing his annoyance, and he was the kind of man who enjoyed that kind of honesty. 

At last the older man reached his side and made a snatch for the journal. It was easy, far too easy, to pull it away, leaving nothing but empty air for the scientist to grab at. Had they not gone through this many times before, Nida might have been offended by the attempt. As it was he was only amused.

“One day you must give me a chance to study that, Nida,” Veringas said as he moved to sit by Nida. 

“Not likely, Michel. I've told you, a vast majority of the contents are private.”

“Definitionally so, being a diary.”

“He preferred to refer to it as a journal.”

That earned him a sigh from the other man, who proceeded to shake his head pityingly. “I am not a young man, Nida.”

“As I well know.

“Impertinent boy. Listen to me the whole way through for once. It is not healthy that you cling so strongly to the dead. You have told me you are not even sure if you truly loved him...”

“I never had the chance to learn.”

“Anyway, from what you tell me, his feelings were clear despite his actions. Surely he would desire you to move past your mourning.”

“As much as said so,” Nida was forced to admit.

“Then move on. Stop living in the shadow of actions you cannot change.”

The way Veringas turned his attention to the paper wrapped bundle in Nida's lap, clearly implying his sentiments about what it symbolized. All Nida could do was shake his head and put his hand protectively over the bundle. 

“Don't you think it's a bit hypocritical of you to say that when you are clearly trying to change my actions?”

“Ah, but there is a difference, my young friend. I seek to change the future. You wish to hold on to the past.”

Nida scoffed. “If you want to try and change things then just come out and say what you mean, Michel.” 

“Yes, I see your point. Nida, I do not believe you should be doing this. We have discovered much this last month. Much that I could not know without your connection to the GFs. Imagine what we could discover with more time!”

The sheer enthusiasm of Veringas's words were enough to make him genuinely smile. If there was one thing he had come to truly enjoy about spending time with the scientist was his sheer enthusiasm for what he did. If only he could stand to be around him for more than a few hours a day. The last month had taught him that the hours that Michel put into his work was too much for Nida. It was better than doing nothing, but not quite as bearable as a long deployment mission or just normal training. Not that he was going to get much of either in the future. 

“Squall gave me his word, Michel, and I'm holding him to it. I can't do this anymore. There are too many memories here. The only way to move on is to move away.”

“The war touched everyone, everywhere. Do you really think you're going to find peace there?”

To be honest, no. Veringas was right about that. Everyone had been touched by the war. Boyce's death had solved nothing. There had been some relenting in the Zebalgan forces, some desertion, but mostly it had taken brute force to end things. A new council had risen to fill the void of the one Nida had helped destroy, but their control had lacked the mysterious power Boyce used to solidify his rule. They had still managed to sustain the war for another two months, during which Nida was not given his old command. Instead he found himself deployed to cover Irvine when he was sent to snipe down military leaders or sent to infiltrate the bases or operations centers to find new information. There were even a few missions either alone or with Squall or Seifer to recover captives. It had been hard, unforgiving work that only rarely felt rewarding, and it had only solidified his resolve to leave Balamb. People should not have to do this with their lives. This wasn't the life he wanted to live. 

Finally Zell and Seifer had manged to take a major Zebalgan general captive, and Quistis had found a certain harbor housing Zebalgan non-combatants on ships in the same day. It had been the final straw, the combination of losing a major military leader and having their innocents see Selphie react to children by starting up an impromptu game of tag... Well, it was enough to change things. Or start a change. A cease fire was agreed upon, trials arranged for military traitors had found surprisingly light sentences due to an ingenious political maneuver by Squall and his father, and people were slowly being welcomed back to their homes, a move being tolerated through SeeDs from the various Gardens being posted in towns and cities to serve as temporary peacekeepers, but mostly to protect Zebalgans. 

Yet the war didn't end without its losses. A Zebalgan of high regard had put forth that nearly a quarter of their population had been lost in the war. No one knew quite what to make of that. Nida and Irvine were less convinced than others. Both had admitted to a gut reaction when the figures were presented, and while they couldn't say why they'd felt it was off, they felt that it was. Irvine thought the number was lower, but Nida still felt it had to be higher than that. He'd seen the numbers at their Centran refuge, and it was supposed to be only one hide away for them. The numbers that came forth after the war were far too small. Nida was certain far more had died than claimed, and that the people were afraid of admitting just how numerous they were. 

Everyone, everywhere had been affected. There were still damages to Deling that had to be dealt with due to the artillery force Fujin destroyed with the Rag. Esthar's barrier had been damaged beyond easy repair from a naval attack at their southern borders. Even Winhill had been affected by another attack attempt repelled by Esthari forces. The old mansion had been nearly completely destroyed, and even now new homes were being built due to a fund set up by Laguna and supported by both Squall and himself. 

“It's where I need to be,” Nida said at last, pushing himself to his feet, slipping the journal away and adjusting his grip on the bundle. “I've heard you out...”

“No you haven't. If you can't stay here, I can get the funding to work in Esthar. You could live in the most advanced city in the world. I can get you your own personal flier. You could spend the time you aren't working...”

“No, Michel. Just let me do what I need to do. Friends support friends, right? And are we not friends?”

“Friends don’t let friends waste their true potential. Which is what you'll be doing if you go there. Can’t you see that there is nothing there for you?”

“I'll build a life that I want there. It's all I can do.”

“So you're going to do it, aren't you? That's your uniform...”

Nida chuckled, patting the bundle. “Just one of them. The rest are in my room. This is more symbolic than anything. He'll appreciate the gesture.”

“Seems I can't stop you. Just know that if you ever change your mind...”

“I'm sure someone will point you out to me. Good luck with your research. I've heard Irvine's connection to Mateas has gotten pretty strong lately. He can help the same way I did.”

“No,” Veringas said with an odd certainty. “I don't think he can.”

Nida just smiled and gave Veringas a wave goodbye and resumed on the way toward the central elevator. Squall would be waiting for him. No, more like expecting him. Nida couldn't help but try to smooth out his t-shirt. Not that Squall would care, but he still had to try to look his best as he resigned his position.

* * * * * *

“Squall?”

“Nomura. I wasn't expecting to see you before your departure.”

“Just wanted to drop this off.”

“I see. And the others?”

“Left in the closet when I leave. Or, at least, the ones in any real condition.” 

“Understood. While you're here, take these. It will save me a runner.”

“What...?”

“Your final paycheck.”

“I thought we had made arrangements to see this into the Winhill rebuilding fund.”

“You'll need it to get yourself set up. If this is an example of your wardrobe...”

“I'll see what I can do. Thanks. I'll see you around Squall.”

“Likely enough. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“And Nida?”

“Yeah, Squall?”

“There's always a place for you here.”

* * * * * *

His life boiled down to one box, and two weapons in a sling over his shoulder. In truth, it was almost pathetic. There's been more once, right? Before he'd gone mad and destroyed so much. Now it all came down to a single box. Not even a big one. Large enough for his few changes of clothes, some mementos, pictures, the few items that had survived it all. Did he even need more? The rest could be filled in with time. Time wasn't infinite, but it would have to be enough.

“That's really all you've got?”

“Not everyone burdens themselves through their lives,” Nida suggested, but Seifer just laughed it off.

“Really? I assumed it had something to do with that fit you had after killing your lover.”

Months ago that might have been enough to drive him to a fight. He liked to think he'd mellowed out and that was why he wasn't punching Seifer. In truth it was more about the fact that he'd damaged the framed picture of his mother once in a rage, and he wasn't going to risk the glass in the new frame hurting it when he dropped the box. 

“You're so funny that I actually forgot to laugh. Silly me. What do you want, Seifer?”

“You really think you're getting away from the posse so easily? I've told you, haven't I? Posse is for life, Nomura.”

“You three aren't exactly welcome where I'm going.”

“Like I even care,” Seifer laughed. “Rules have no meaning for me.”

“Says the...” Nida looked toward the arrogant blonde and frowned. “You're not in your uniform.”

Sure enough Seifer's SeeD uniform was missing. Nida had never seen him out of it since he'd won his rank. The blond had quickly abandoned the overly formal uniform given to him when he was Zell's second after the war, happily returning to his SeeD uniform, but Nida hadn't seen him out of it once since then. To see him now in casual dress was unnerving. 

“But, see, I can't exactly send Fujin. She's still pissed at you. And Raijin... Well, like he'd fit in.”

“They hate you there,” Nida pointed out. “A lot.”

“Nothing new,” he responded, smirk saying he wasn't lying. “I'm used to making a place where I'm not welcome. I'll just keep up my record.”

“And if I don't want your company?”

“Too fucking bad. Besides, Squall's given me my marching orders. Got to make sure you don't create an international incident or something.”

Nida laughed. “Great. I get to babysit you. That's what is really happening here, isn't it?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I guess we'll see. But I promise you one thing: that place won't be the same when we're done.”

As Nida looked up at the red beauty that was the Ragnarok, his lift to his new home, he couldn't help but smile. Chances were Seifer was right. Things wouldn't be the same. But that was precisely what he wanted. Something new. And Galbadia Garden offered him just that.

* * * * * *

_A stone arch rises out of the fog, filled with a pale blue light that makes his heart skip a beat. Here. This. It was the root of it all. The source of all of the purpose of his life._

_And between him and it stood a shadow that he could not help but recognize._

_His hand tightened on his tambo. This time he wouldn't fail. It ended today._


End file.
